Semper Fi
by der kapitan
Summary: History is bound to repeat itself. Though you may burn the pages and hide it from the youth, it can never truly disappear. The Capitol never forgets, and they will not be silenced. Welcome back to the Hunger Games. - currently on hiatus
1. prologue

**Semper Fi  
><strong>_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Prologue

Opening Song: "The Ruler and the Killer" - Kid Cudi

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><p><em>From the treaty of the treason: In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public "Reaping." These Tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol. And then transferred to a public arena where they will Fight to the Death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as-<em>

It cuts off. The parchment is faded and old, yellowing and curling on the edges, but the final words have been deliberately censored. A black box, created by some thick marker, conceals the words.

Nature itself is never responsible for secrecy.

This declaration is everywhere in Unified Panem - books, scrolls, newspapers, magazines - but everywhere it is the same. The last phrase is blocked out. For some time, children ask their parents about the missing words, but they receive no answer. Sometimes the parents remember and are too afraid to answer, but most of the time they themselves do not know.

Then the children forget about the mystery because it simply does not matter. Unified Panem is, after all, in a state of near perfection. A loyal president stands at the head of the newly adopted democracy, and all regions are equally represented by two representatives they vote for. All the former Districts of the past no longer exist; in their place stands a strong, united state. There are no strict District lines or borders, and diversity among the people is highly encouraged.

In order to promote integration, there exists (right in the middle of the country) an academy where children from all over are invited to receive a top education. Here, the children learn everything they need to know in order to succeed in new Unified Panem. They learn how to be happy, because these are happy times.

And happy times cannot be so easily shattered by forgotten words.

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><p>Closing Song: "Stripped" - Shiny Toy Guns<p> 


	2. happy liberation day!

Author's Note:

Hey guys! First I want to thank all of you so so so much for sending in all your characters; I promise I will try my very best to do justice to all of them. For everyone new to the scene who may still be interested, though - **I am still accepting tributes from DIstricts 9 and 13 - one from each. Both must be male, and over the age of fifteen. **To the tributes I have now - you will have a say to what happens to you (alliances, romances, etc.), but more info on that later.

Enjoy the chapter! :)

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><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter One  
>Happy Liberation Day!<p>

Opening Song: "The Ruler and the Killer" - Kid Cudi

* * *

><p>The large steel doors to the office slide open as the decorated general saunters through. All he has with him is a simple manila folder, but he holds it guardedly, as though afraid of losing it. The individual he approaches at the desk is an older woman, perhaps in her late fifties, but despite her age she sits with dignity and authority. "President Mala," the general greets, extending his arm to hand her the folder.<p>

"It's that time of year again, is it?" she asks, sighing heavily as she takes the important documents. The president of Unified Panem sifts through the papers, her eyes narrowing as she scans them. Eventually, she shuts the folder and tosses it onto the mahogany desk, not wanting to bother with it any longer. Instead, she picks up her before abandoned cigarette and raises it to her lips. "Did a messenger come with the papers this time?"

He shakes his head. "No. As usual, it came in the mail. I don't think anyone on Lemnos actually wants to leave, no matter how much they complain about it."

She laughs, though it's humorless. "They're living in extravagance on that little island of theirs - probably better than most of the people living here. What do they have to complain about?" The question is rhetorical, as both of them already know the answer. The silence that settles over them is uncomfortable, unsettling even. "In any case - give me a little bit to go over the papers in detail. I'm sure everything's the same, just the usual whining, but you can't be too careful with these kinds of things."

He nods and inches towards the door, knowing that she prefers solitude when working. "Alright. Is there anything else you needed?"

She opens her mouth with a negative reply, but she pauses. "Actually, get the cleaning crew in here and ask them to wipe everything down. I hate the smell of roses."

* * *

><p>"Why don't you wear something nice today?"<p>

Riley stops observing herself in the mirror when she hears her mother's voice. She looks down at the pretty pink dress she is holding against her body, but drops it when she sees the unimpressed expression her mother is wearing. "I thought this was something nice," she says calmly, trying not to let the hurt reflect in her voice.

Her mother tuts disappointedly as she peels the dress away and lays it down on the bed. "I bought you a new dress." Before Riley can even protest, a satin red dress is being held up to her, along with a matching diamond necklace. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see boxes of jewels as well. "Today's a day for celebration! You should look as beautiful as you can."

"Thanks, Mom," she mumbles, her hazel eyes drifting towards the discarded pink dress. "Um, we're all still going to dinner tonight, right? You, me, and Dad?"

Margret tries to look crestfallen, but Riley has seen that face too many times to feel any real disappointment. She's too used to being stood up by her own parents. "Oh, I'm sorry, hun, but your father and I are going to be very busy tonight. Perhaps another time." She pats her on the head - doesn't even give her a hug or a kiss - and leaves, with her expensive blue skirt flowing around her.

"Yeah, maybe another time," she echoes, though Margret is long gone by now. She admires the soft red fabric and the way the diamonds shine in the light, but when she looks up, she sees that she is scowling. Shaking her head, she clears her upset thoughts before slipping into her new outfit - the fifth one that week - and heading out. As her mother said, today is a celebration, and she is going to celebrate, with or without her parents.

Just as she steps onto the street, someone grabs her by the arm, twirling her around. "Oh my God, what are you- Rachel!" She grins when she sees her friend, who's accompanied by a group of people from the academy.

"Well, don't you look fancy," Rachel praises, openly admiring the expensive clothing. "Another gift from your dad?"

"And Mom," she answers curtly, and Rachel nods, understanding.

"Happy Liberation Day!" An arm wraps around her shoulders, drawing her in against a thin body. When she looks up with a scowl (parts of her hair are now tangled in the diamond necklace), she sees a pair of bright green eyes. "Hey, you look nice. I like your dress."

"Thanks, Mattheo," she says, pushing him away to escape his grasp. She eyes him from head to toe and allows a small grin to grace her lips. "You're looking pretty fashionable yourself." For emphasis, she gives the navy blazer he's wearing a light tug. He looks proud, probably because he's the best dressed male in the group, and grins.

Before anyone can say anything else, a brunette forces her way through the crowd, trying to get everyone's attention. "Hey, c'mon, let's go! We're gonna lose all the good spots if we don't go _now_," she insists, practically jumping.

"Calm down, Terra," Mattheo laughs, ruffling her hair teasingly.

She scowls, slapping his hands away from the dark ringlets. "We should go to the front, though, or else we won't be able to see anything. C'mooon, all the little kids are gonna get the best spots and then we'll be standing in the back. Don't say I didn't tell you so."

While Mattheo snickers, Riley smiles appreciatively and walks forward with the girl from District 1. "Terra has a point. The parade's gonna start soon anyway, and I don't want to stand in the back. Come on."

The group of teenagers meld in with the growing crowd, which is shifting excitedly towards the center of the city. Today is a very special day: it is the Centennial Anniversary of the Liberation by the Mockingjay, Katniss Everdeen. Every year, the citizens of Unified Panem gather to celebrate in the square of what was once the Capitol. The President delivers a speech, then festivities ensue, including a parade, a replay of scenes from the life of the Girl on Fire, and games and prizes. As it is an annual holiday, most people take off work - including the students of the nearby academy.

One such student groans as she leans against the railing at the front of the crowd, trying to put some distance between herself and the people around her. "Ugh, I'm glad we came here early enough, but sometimes being in the front sucks," she whines, blowing a wisp of platinum blonde hair out of her face.

The tanned female beside her smirks in amusement as she folds her arms across her chest. "I told you we should have stood in the back. I mean, look at poor Zook; he looks like he's gonna suffocate."

"Yeah, you're hilarious, Lana," the dark-haired boy returns, his lanky body nearly curling over the railing from being pushed against it so hard. "The only way I could be more uncomfortable is by wearing a slinky clubbing dress."

A large frown mars her face, and somehow she manages to punch him in the arm. "I look hot," she says confidently, in a tone that refuses to be questioned.

Zook rolls his eyes, unimpressed nevertheless. "Oi, Dolly, how're you holding up over there?"

"Don't call me that," the first girl snaps testily. She opens her mouth, ready to shoot an insult at her classmate, but a round of 'sssh's sound around them as President Mala steps onto the stage. Dahlia slinks back into the crowd, mildly embarrassed, and looks up at the woman with reverence.

"Another year, another Liberation Day," are the first words to come from the aging woman's mouth. She does not look tired or bored, though - contrarily, she smiles at the crowd genuinely, and they cheer in reply. "It's almost hard to believe, isn't it, that a hundred years ago Unified Panem was such a different place. Districts weren't allowed to communicate with another, the Capitol and President Snow-" (the mere mention of his name brings on an onslaught of boos), "- ruled over Panem with oppression and corruption, and-" She pauses, and for a moment appears to be distraught. She shakes her head, clears her thoughts. "But it all came to an end. She forever stands a reminder that all it takes is one person to stand up to oppression. It takes only one person to spark a revolution."

The large screen behind President Mala flickers, and the first image that pops up is a recording of the Girl on Fire, dressed in her Mockingjay costume. She is standing in front of a burning building in District 8, and the resolve in her eyes strikes the crowd, even one hundred years later. Everyone is screaming when the short film ends, everyone is chanting _Katniss, Katniss, Katniss_. President Mala steps back up to the podium and grins. "Happy Liberation Day, everyone!"

* * *

><p>Thousands of miles away, in a region that used to belong strictly to coal miners, a young woman combs through her sister's hair with an old comb that used to belong to her mother. She hums softly, a song without a title, as she pulls the teeth through brown tresses. "There," she says finally, putting down the instrument. "Don't you look pretty?" Dove turns around and grins brightly at her red-haired sibling, who smiles softly in reply.<p>

"Can we turn on the TV?" she requests. "The parade's gonna start soon, I think."

"Yeah, go ahead." She watches as her little sister skips to the small TV they have in their living room. The little girl watches with large eyes as the flaming float crawls from one end of the screen to the other. "Do you know where Serena and Tuck are? They were supposed to be home half an hour ago."

"With Thistle, I think," Dove answers, refusing to take her eyes off the screen.

Rain frowns at the mention of the dark-haired boy. "With the kid who almost got kicked out of the academy because he was screwing around? Great choice of friends, Serena," she grumbles the latter comment under her breath. The neighborhood troublemaker is not someone she wants her siblings spending too much time around, but she figures there isn't much she can do about it. She's only home for the weekend; after that, it's back to the academy. "Hey, have you guys been getting all your vegetables and protein?" she inquires as she sorts through the fridge, which is nearly empty.

"Yeah, Stephan buys fresh stuff every day." Stephan is their next door neighbor and Rain's closest friend. While she's away at school, he takes care of her siblings. "Sometimes he takes all of us hunting with him, but it's usually just Kyle. They say girls make too much noise and Tuck's not all that good at shooting anyway." She wrinkles her nose a bit, but it's obvious she doesn't mind staying indoors, away from the woods and game.

Rain takes a seat beside her youngest sister and joins her in watching the Liberation Day parade. She doesn't care too much for President Mala, so she usually tunes out her speeches, but the parade is always breath taking.

"I wish I could'a met Katniss," Dove says wistfully as the girl in the black suit (representative of the Mockingjay) is set on fire. "She was really brave."

Rain smiles because she remembers how much she looked up to Katniss Everdeen as a child. "She was from District 12, you know, her and Peeta Mellark. They're the reason why the Capitol don't rule over us anymore; they're the reason why we're free. If it weren't for them, Unified Panem wouldn't be the way it is now."

Dove's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "But sometimes I see you get really mad. I thought you said you didn't like it."

She frowns for a moment, unsure of how to explain it. "Sometimes it's hard. And it's not that I don't like our nation - it's the president I don't really like."

"Why?"

"Because, even after all the revolutions and the changes and reforms, everything is still so unfair. There's still a hierarchy, and that's exactly what Katniss was fighting against. Life is good here, better than it used to be - but it _should_ be better, Dove," she elaborates, stroking back her sister's hair. "The closer you get to the center of the country, the better it is. Life out here is still significantly poorer than everyone else, and a hundred years later we're _still_ fighting for equality."

Dove blinks blankly, but Rain can tell she is trying to understand. She laughs softly before leaning in to press an affectionate kiss against her forehead. "Just enjoy the parade. I'm gonna talk to Stephan and give him some money for next week." Dove nods and waves to her sister, who leaves with a wave.

On the screen, a flight of mockingjays are released.

* * *

><p>Even on this day of celebration, there are those who hide away. Korra Blackthorne sits alone in her room, with her back up against the wall and her legs crossed as she sits on her bed. Her wrist flicks - a knife embeds itself into the center of a dart board. The process repeats, over and over again, until there is no room left on the board. She hears the shouts and cries from outside, but she tries her best to ignore them; she's always been good at blocking out the rest of the world.<p>

The door to her room slams open, and the loud noise is accompanied by more excessive shouting and cheering. The dark-haired female who walks in reels back upon spotting her on the bed and apologizes quickly. "Oh my gosh, Korra, I'm so sorry," she says quickly. "I didn't know you were in here."

The brunette shrugs nonchalantly. "It's alright." Her eyes dart to the two people behind her roommate, both of whom are standing behind her as though using her for protection. "Aren't you guys out enjoying the celebration?"

"I just came by to grab my purse," Rea explains, reaching under her bed to grab the item. "Why aren't you out?" Though she asks the question, they both know the answer.

She's just being polite, though, and Korra likes her roommate, so she doesn't reply sarcastically like she normally would. "I guess I'm not really up for going outside," she says civilly. "Too many people in a small place - I get claustrophobic, you know?"

Rea bobs her head in understanding. They both know Korra isn't a very social individual anyway, but she's not one to openly judge someone based on their preferences. "Well, once the crowd clears, you should take a look. There's a lot of free food."

"Yeah. I'll think about it."

They sit in an awkward silence for a couple of moments, until the tall boy behind Rea clears his throat loudly. "Oh, right, well, we better get going. See you later, Korra!"

She barely has time to raise her hand before the trio is gone, once again bellowing as they parade down the hall. She can't help herself from muttering, "Idiots," before she hurls the final knife at the board. The target falls to the tile floor with a heavy 'clunk.'

* * *

><p>Despite being advertised as a family-friendly place, the streets of the former Capitol often aren't very safe during Liberation Day. There are so many people packed into one place that it's difficult to keep track of oneself, let alone others. For the younger generation of Unified Panem, this day is either a test of courage or something to stay clear of.<p>

"This isn't a good idea," a boy from District 3 announces solemnly as he folds his arms across his chest. "You can't even see through the crowd; you'll all get eaten up by the crowd and _I'll_ get in trouble because I'm in charge."

"Don't get your panties all up in a twist, Oliver," the girl beside him snorts, slapping him on the back harshly. "We're just here to have some fun. Besides, Liberation Day is for _everyone_. Why does the cut off age have to be fifteen?"

Oliver rolls his eyes at the pout on River's face. "Because people are usually taller than 5' 1" at fifteen, which means they won't drown in the crowd. Fourteen, too, I guess, but you just got unlucky." He barely manages to block the punch she delivers in his direction.

"Whatever, I'm not scared!" declares the fiery girl from District 11. "Bring it on!"

"Calm down, Ruby," Drizzle sighs, running her fingers through her multi-colored hair. "Look, I can't tell you guys what to do, but all I'm saying is that we're all gonna get into a lot of trouble if Altair, Luke, and Hawk come back and all of us are gone."

"Well, it's not as though the three of them should be missing anyway," comments Joel, who's been silent during the entire gathering. "I thought babysitting implied actually being present."

Ruby rolls her eyes. "I wouldn't wanna babysit us either. I'd wanna have fun - which is what Liberation Day is about."

Oliver raises an eyebrow. "Actually, it's not. It's about Katniss Everdeen and-"

"Ugh, I don't care! Today we have school _off_, remember?" she retorts, raising her nose. "It's not even like we're gonna be gone for that long. We're just gonna look around and have some fun. We'll be back before they even notice we're missing."

River and Ruby ogle up at him with wide, puppy dog eyes. He feels his cold face crack, and he gives in with a sigh, much to their delight. "Alright - but just a half hour, okay? And don't-" Before he can finish his sentence, the two run off, disappearing into the crowd. "Wait, hold on!" he shouts, chasing after them.

Drizzle and Joel exchange a look. "Better safe than sorry," Joel says for both of them as they take a seat on the bench. She silently bobs her head in agreement before pulling out her personal copy of _History of Panem_.

Moments later, a strawberry blonde walks into the lobby, a look of confusion written on her features. Oralee Roshan looks at the lonely duo. "Drizzle, Joel - where are the others?"

Joel shrugs as he kicks his legs back and forth. "Got lost in the crowd."

Sighing, she slaps a hand to her forehead. "It was Ruby and River again, wasn't it? Oh man, Luke and the others are gonna have a field day. Okay, the two of you stay here - I'll be right back. I'm gonna go look for them, so don't wander away, alright?"

Drizzle snorts as Oralee disappears through the glass doors. "As if."

* * *

><p>Lorea Carnet clings to her brother's arm as he casually weaves through the crowd, waving and smiling at people he recognizes. "You might rip off my arm if you hold on any tighter," Lewis teases good-naturedly, but she shoots him a dark look anyway. "C'mon, Lorea, we're supposed to be having fun. How often does it happen that we get a day off from classes?" He decides against mentioning that he also has a date with his girlfriend, who has become more irritated with how much time he's been spending with his sister and other friends.<p>

"I don't even want to be here," she grumbles, just loud enough for him to hear.

He frowns and begins to scold her, when an auburn-haired girl walks right into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Woah! Oh, hey, Allegra. Didn't expect to see you here." Though he smiles amiably, her face remains impassive - a mirror image of Lorea's expression. He clears his throat, hoping that it will get rid of the increasingly awkward atmosphere. It doesn't. "Ah, uh, Happy Liberation Day!"

"Yeah, you, too," she returns, though there's no emotion behind it. She and Lorea connect gazes, and there's shared disdain. She tears her eyes away before heading off. "See you later, Lewis." He waves after her, even though he knows she doesn't see (or care, mostly likely).

"I don't like her," Lorea states bluntly.

He scratches his neck uncomfortably, because though he may not be a big fan of the girl from District 13, either, he feels that voicing that opinion (in public, no less) is inappropriate. "She's just not a very social person." His sister almost laughs, because she's not sure if he's talking about her or Allegra Grimstone. "Oh, look - there's Lila and her friends. It's crazy how different she and Allegra are; they're both from the same district, you know."

She observes the girl and her friends emotionlessly, though she almost admires how _loud_ such a small group can be, especially with such a large crowd around them. Most of her is just annoyed, though. "I don't like her, either," she says, finding the redhead to be too garish for her tastes. "I don't know how someone from 13 can be so… obnoxious."

"She always seemed like fun to me," Lewis admits honestly, smiling ever-so-slightly.

"Yes, well, you're just friends with everyone, aren't you?" Though it comes out as an insult, Lewis takes it as a compliment and grins anyway. Lorea, slightly irritated, folds her arms. "There's that weirdo Nyle."

"You really shouldn't talk about your upperclassmen like that," Lewis scolds. "He's a nice guy if you talk to him; he's just a little misunderstood is all." She snorts loudly because now he sounds like one of the many anti-bullying talkers the academy has come in every year. "He's with Jorden, too. They both get along, I hear… Ah, and there's Cole. I don't know much about him, though. I heard he spends most of his time in the gym."

"Ooo, a jock," she croons sarcastically.

"Not quite," he laughs. "I heard his family life isn't all that great, so it's probably how he gets his mind off things." Before he can explain anything or anyone else, an auburn-haired girl runs up to them wearing a white grin. "Hey Mykal!" he greets, her cheerfulness contagious.

"Hey Lewis, Lorea," she replies, even though the latter pays her no heed. "You guys enjoying the festival?"

He nods affirmatively. "Yeah, I love this time of year. It's always nice to see everyone get together and celebrate such a great thing. What about you?"

"Same, same," Mykal chirps, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Actually, I'm looking for Kate Abner. I invited her to hang out, but she's super quiet, so I think she just might be hiding from me…"

"Isn't that her?" Lorea asks, still managing to sound disinterested, as she points in the direction of a girl with tangled hair.

"Oh, yup, that's her! Thanks, Lorea! I'll see you guys around." She waves to the brother and sister duo before running off in the direction Lorea pointed.

Lewis waves in return, grinning from ear to ear. "I love this time of year," he repeats, clearly affected by the cheerful fervor around him.

She gives him a deadpan look. "Yeah, it's great," she states glumly before walking off.

* * *

><p>While everyone else celebrates and cheers and parades, one girl kneels, alone, before two tombstones. The stones are plain, save for the names carved into them, with fresh flowers laid before them. The young blonde finishes her prayer and leans back on the legs folded underneath her. It is just her in this cemetery, for today is a day of celebration, not mourning.<p>

"Sorry Stark couldn't make it," she whispers, her lips pressing into a frown. "He wanted to, but I told him to have fun with his friends. It's Liberation Day, you know. For everyone else, it's such a big deal because of the rebellion - the one that worked, I mean. But they don't even _know_." The fists at her side shake in silent fury. "They're trying to make us forget - the President and the government and all of them. They got rid of the Capitol, but… I don't know if this is any better. Everyone says that the rebellion was a good thing, that President Snow was tyrant and now we're better off. But maybe there's no such thing as a perfect government."

Skyloh runs her thumb over the letters in the stone. 'HEMMINGTON' is written on both slabs, underneath the first names. "They still say it was an accident, that they didn't mean to kill you, that they mistook you for criminals." She shakes her head, and she doesn't realize she's crying until she sees the dark spots in the dirt. "They say it was for security, but…"

In one of her clenched hands in a crumbled piece of paper. On it are three words that should no longer exist.

_From the treaty of the treason: In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public "Reaping." These Tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol. And then transferred to a public arena where they will Fight to the Death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as __**the Hunger Games**__._

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><p>Closing Song: "Stripped" - Shiny Toy Guns<p>

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><p>Wow, I'm so sorry if this seemed super boring, haha. There is some really important information in all this, though, so make sure you read through it all. I wanted to include all the characters I got, even if it's just mentioning them. I promise each character will be more fleshed out as the story progresses, though!<p>

Remember that reviews will directly affect your tributes sponsors, and you will definitely get more kudos if you leave a real review (rather than just "good job" or "update"). The action will start soon, so don't slack off now! I promise everything will get exciting in the next two chapters. :)

Hope to hear from all of you soon!


	3. all that glitters

Author's Note:

Thank you all so much for your support and reviews - they all truly truly mean so much to me. They really are the greatest motivation for a writer. :) This chapter is another set up for what's to come, but don't think of it as a filler. There's a reason behind everything, you'll see soon enough!

Also - I have a sponsor system I'm contemplating right now, but I really want you guys to have a part in this story. If you have any ideas or anything you'd like to see, just submit it in the review. Hope to hear from all of you soon!

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><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Two  
>All That Glitters<p>

Opening Song: "The Ruler and the Killer" - Kid Cudi

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><p>Three people stand in the center of the stage. Hundreds of people surround them from below, but they are quiet. A solemn, sober atmosphere hovers around them, and no one is quite willing to break it.<p>

Finally, one woman steps up to the microphone. She is dressed much simpler than everyone else in the crowd, having donned a professional navy blue business skirt and matching blazer. The only accessory she wears is a white rose tucked into her lapel. "Happy Liberation Day," she drawls in the accent distinctive of her people. Her tone is clipped and ironic, however, and the crowd laughs. "That's what they call this day over in Unified Panem. You wouldn't believe, though, how few of them actually _know_ what it is they are celebrating."

The man in the extravagant striped tuxedo and the plain black eyepatch joins his leader at the front. "We would not assimilate into their culture. We would not accept their terms. We would not give up who we were. So they banished us, and now they were trying to forget we exist." A round of boos sounded from the mass. "But it's not that simple is it? We are here, we are alive - and we cannot be forgotten."

The duo exchange a smile as everyone breaks out into loud, excited cheers. "To the citizens of Unified Panem, we do no exist. To the administrators, we are the exiled island of Lemnos. No matter what they call us, however, we cannot be oppressed forever. Citizens of the Capitol-!" Everyone is screaming now; some are jumping and throwing their hands into the air, others are breaking out celebratory drinks. "- this will be our year!"

As everyone hollers and applauds, the man in the shadows steps up to the woman's side. "Prime Minister Snow," he whispers into her ear. "The preparations are nearly complete."

A snake-like smile makes its way onto her face. "Excellent. Have everyone on standby; we'll douse their fire soon enough."

* * *

><p>"You're late." All three boys wince as the old instructor glowers at them; even if he has to look up to their height, the power behind his glare is enough to frighten them. To make matters worse, the entire class has come to a pause to watch their embarrassment. "The three of you are supposed to be model students. How are you supposed to be doing that when you're running around the halls and showing up late to class?"<p>

"Well, in our defense, we weren't really 'running around the halls,'" Hawk mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, though it's loud enough for the instructor to hear.

Before he can be rebuked, Altair steps in front of him, choosing to play the mediator (as he so often does). "We were just running a little late from our last class," he explains. "Mr. Adler kept us late, and we had to run across campus. We'll bring a note next time." For extra bonus points, he flashes a white smile.

Their history teacher narrows his eyes at them, and for moment they all hold their breath. They finally release it when he waves them off (though he's still wearing an agitated expression). "Take your seats."

"Suck up," Hawk whispers as the trio wander to their seats at the back of the classroom.

"Some extreme sucking up that's helped us out," Luke intervenes. "They threatened to kick us off student government if we got another infraction."

He shrugs nonchalantly, unbothered by the prospect. "They've been threatening us for the past four years. Besides, the majority would never kick us off; we have ideas that the rest of the student body actually _likes_." Though he agrees, Luke only shakes his head. "And it's not like any of us want to be here, anyway."

"Yeah, but remember when you got caught sleeping in the tree?" Altair asks, raising an auburn eyebrow. "I still don't think he's forgiven you for that." They all look over at Mr. Trapp who is, sure enough, glaring in their direction. "We probably shouldn't take any chances for a while."

While Hawk rolls his honey-colored eyes and sinks into his seat, the history instructor resumes his lecture, even if he knows it's falling on deaf ears. Despite the turmoil Panem has experienced, before and after unification, history is not a very popular subject at the academy. The legendary tale of Katniss Everdeen is one that is repeated again and again, so that children at the age of five can recite it by heart. Little else is explained, other than geography and ethnographic aspects. Even the Girl on Fire is an enigmatic figure; not much is known about her personally, and the details of the Capitol she punished are blurry. The specifics are never really questioned, though, for that's simply how everything has always been.

Just as Mr. Trapp begins wrapping up the section on the Capitol, a hand shoots up into the air. "Yes, Mykal?"

"What happened to the Capitol?" she asks, genuinely interested.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… What happened to them?" she repeats, unsure of how else to reword the question. "We always talk about what horrible people they were and how they oppressed us and forced us to work for them, and we always talk about how Katniss Everdeen brought justice for all of us." He nods slowly, trying to understand what is being asked of him. "But what actually happened to them? They don't live here anymore, I mean…"

Before Mr. Trapp can even answer (if he knows how to answer at all, which is doubtful considering the confusion on his face), Oliver throws his hand into the air. "Er, yes, Oliv-"

"We don't actually know what happened to the people of the Capitol," he states as-a-matter-of-factly. "They were well known for their extravagance and debauchery, so it's unlikely that they completely assimilated into the society we have now. Additionally, there were many who outright refused to adopt a new government and way of life, one that involved equal representation and fairness among all districts."

"There's no evidence that they never actually assimilated, though," Drizzle argues, and Oliver shoots her a sharp glare. Her dark brown eyes remain passive, and she looks less than impressed by his reasoning. "There was such a large number of them; there's no way all of them could have just disappeared without anyone noticing. It might have been difficult, especially because of their way of life, but it's been a century. We didn't think people of so many different districts could live together, but look at the former Capitol now - all of us are living peacefully here."

"Time doesn't work like that," Oliver retorts. "Look at ancient societies - colonies under imperialism never fully assimilated."

Drizzle gawks at the blond. "You're comparing our takeover of the Capitol - a corrupt, dictatorial, hedonistic government - to _imperialism_? What we did can't even be compared to what the British did to the Chinese and the Egyptians to the Nubians."

"What's this 'we' you're talking about? _You_ are just some girl learning history, no matter how wrong or construed your 'facts' may be, in a classroom. _Katniss Everdeen_ led the revolution that ultimately overthrew the Capitol. Also, regardless of the characteristics of the former Capitol, the manner in which we took over was-"

An eraser suddenly smacks him right in the forehead, silencing him and the rest of the class, which began to stir up due to the subject matter. Drizzle glowers at him, her face red (both from embarrassment and sheer rage), and Oliver swallows thickly.

Before a war can break out between the two students from District 3, Mr. Trapp clears his throat and draws the attention back to himself. "Thank you, Oliver and Drizzle, but I'd much prefer it if you kept your conspiracy theories _outside_ the classroom." The two open their mouths to protest - it's _not_ a conspiracy theory, they want to say - but a sharp look from their history teacher quiets them. "Now, Mykal, in response to your question: no one is quite sure what happened to the entire population of the Capitol. Some assimilated into our society, but what happened to the others remains a mystery."

No one says anything, because how can it be possible for a whole civilization to just disappear? They all want to ask for more, especially Mykal, but Mr. Trapp obviously does not have the answers - and if he does, he is not going to share them.

"Now, does anyone have anymore questions before we continue?"

Slowly, carefully, a hand stands up.

"Yes, Nyle?"

The dark-haired boy in the back looks slightly uncomfortable, especially now that everyone is watching him with curious eyes. "I stumbled across a phrase, or maybe a passage or something, yesterday during the festival." His jade green eyes shift from left to right as though nervous, and now he is regretting bringing up the entire matter. "I was just curious… What it might have meant."

Mr. Trapp raises an eyebrow, wondering what his question has to do with the topic at hand. "Yes?"

Nyle clears his throat as he pulls out a sheet of paper. "_From the treaty of the treason-_" Mr. Trapp's eyes widen considerably. "_In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and female between the age of 12 and 18 at a public 'Reaping.' These Tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol. And then transferred to a public arena where they will-_"

"Nyle," he cuts in hurriedly, interrupting him. "That is not something we discuss in this class. This is an introductory course to the history of Panem. That has nothing to do with what we are currently covering, and I'd appreciate it if you threw that piece of paper away."

The entire class is surprised because, despite his being a stickler for attendance and punctuality, Mr. Trapp has never spoken so curtly and coldly to a student before. Behind the sudden fire in his eyes is also nervousness, and all of them can tell.

"But they're everywhere," Zook argues, much to their teacher's dismay. "I mean, I've found it on the insides of books, old magazines and newspapers… I bet I could find fifty of them just in my house. My folks don't even know what it means, though. It's creepy, the way they talk about kids 'fighting to the death' or whatever. Sounds like a horror story." He laughs a bit at the last comment, and those around him chuckle in amusement as well.

"And they mention the Capitol, so you honestly can't say that is has nothing to do with history," says Catcher Hollowind, earning nods in agreement. "It sounds like the Capitol basically kidnapped a bunch of kids and made them kill each other."

Dahlia snorts. "Talk about a sick horror story. Like any real society would let something like that happen; it completely disagrees with every social contract that's ever existed."

"I'm not suggesting it actually happened," Catcher replies with a frown. "It's just what the passage says. We don't even know if it's real or fiction, but isn't the _idea_ scary?"

"Survival of the fittest," is all she says, and no one (including herself) is sure if she's kidding or not.

"Enough!" Mr. Trapp bellows, red in the face. He walks over to Nyle's desk, snatches the crumbled up piece of paper from his hands, and shoves it into his pocket. "You will not mention this or bring it up anymore; if I catch any of you with it, I am sending you to the principal's office. Am I making myself clear?" The stunned silence answers his question. "This passage means nothing - it is nothing. It's nothing more than a fairytale to keep children well-behaved and off the streets. Now that we've got that out of the way, let's study some _real_ history."

* * *

><p>"I thought Trapp's head was going to pop off!" Lana chortles as she walks out of the classroom with Dahlia and Zook beside her. "Especially when you started talking, Dahlia. Do you ever think about anything you say?"<p>

Rather than being insulted, Dahlia merely shrugs. "Who cares? It's not like it's real."

Zook sighs hopelessly as he runs his fingers through his dark hair. "Just because something isn't real doesn't mean you shouldn't show a little more respect, Dolly," he scolds, though he wears a friendly grin. "Besides, we don't know that for sure. It may not be in the books or anything, but there's no evidence that something like that pageant _didn't_ exist."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, because the entire government's hiding something like that from us. You've been watching too many conspiracy theory shows, Zook."

"Hey-" He can't even defend himself before he's nearly knocked off his own feet. The perpetrator doesn't get far before Lana (who actually crashed into another passerby because of the whirlwind) snatches him by the ponytail. "Woah there, bronco. I understand not wanting to be late to your next class, but try not to kill the rest of us in the process."

The young man, who they identify as an underclassmen from District 12, pulls his hair out of Lana's grip with a scowl. "Maybe if you guys didn't walk two miles an hour, I wouldn't have to force my way through the blockade."

"There's a little something called_ manners_, brat," Lana hisses. "If you asked, we would have moved." She studies his face a little longer before pulling back with an exaggerated frown. "Hey, you're the little shit who got sent home for a week because you knocked out all the teachers. Well, it's no wonder you're so ill-groomed; you're too busy coming up with amateur pranks to actually contribute to society."

She doesn't back down when he's suddenly in her face, though she can't help but wonder how a fifteen-year-old can be so tall. "Normally, I don't hit _ladies_," he hisses mockingly, "but I don't think you qualify."

"Ooo, burn," Dahlia comments from the sidelines, cracking a grin. "Are you gonna take that from a kid, Lana?"

"Don't egg her on," Zook says, nudging her with his elbow. "Come on, Lana, he's just a kid. How cool do you think you'll look if you beat up an underclassmen?"

Her head jerks in his direction so she can glare at him. "Shut up, Zook."

He shrugs as she resumes her scowling competition with the boy. "Can't say we didn't try," he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth to Dahlia, who chortles.

Before anything violent happens, a larger presence steps between the two and yanks the younger boy away by the collar. "Oi, what are the two of you doing?" Altair questions as he narrows his eyes at them. "You, especially, Thistle. Do you really wanna risk being kicked out now after being sent home last week?" The addressed just scowls and yanks himself out of the taller male's grip, and Altair can only frown as he walks away. "That one's a handful," he mumbles as he rubs the back of his head. "Although I can't say you look completely innocent," he comments, directing a playfully reproachful look towards Lana.

"Sorry," she apologizes, without really meaning it.

He chuckles. "I can tell you're real torn up about it. Hey, Luke, Hawk! Are we going to lunch?" His friends reply with hoots and hollers, and he waves as though to ask them to wait for him. "Try not to get into anymore trouble." He winks charmingly before walking off.

"I'd think he was endearing if he wasn't so annoying," Lana comments blandly.

"You just don't like authority," Zook points out. "Altair's the kind of guy every girl - and guys, probably - like. Even Dahlia admits she likes him and she's romantically handicapped."

"It's true enough," Dahlia acquiesces, though she punches him roughly on the shoulder anyway. "Whatever, who cares. Can we just get something to eat? I'm starving. All I had for breakfast was a banana."

Lana laughs. "What a hard knock life."

* * *

><p>Economics is not one of the most popular subjects in the academy, but the administrators place a heavy emphasis on it. Unified Panem draws in the resources of all the former districts, so that everyone benefits and has access to necessary resources. Some areas, like those closest to the former Capitol, are wealthier than others. Everything these days is about economics, wealth, and prosperity; without them, the country cannot progress.<p>

Professor Porter is the head of economics, and is renown for her success in the field. She has even been honored by President Mala, and it is said that the president often asks for her advice when it comes to the country's overall economic status. As she stands at the head of the class today, she has one goal in mind: to prepare the future of Unified Panem with the most important knowledge of all - that of wealth.

"This is class 7-A, yes?" she asks, tapping her clipboard with her pen. She receives a silent round of nods. _The trouble class_, she wants to add, but decides against it and gives them a tight smile. "Up until today you've all been studying Accounting and Business - but the numbers involved mean nothing unless you grasp the meaning and concepts behind them. The production, consumption, and transfer of wealth is what has led to the success of Unified Panem; others may say otherwise and disagree with me, but the statistics prove them wrong. Money is everything."

She pauses to survey the class. Other teachers have given her less than rave reviews about this particular class, so she knows not to take it personally when everyone looks as though they're about to fall asleep. "Try to look lively, folks," she comments dryly before clapping her hands together. "We're going to conduct a small activity to introduce the idea of economics to you. Please break up into your restrictive districts." The class is sluggish and there is some slight confusion, but these kids have been in the same class for half a year now, so they're all pretty aware of who belongs with who. After a minute or two, everyone is sitting in small groups representing their districts; Professor Porter mentally notes how Districts 13, 7, and 10 have the most representatives.

"Now, in the past, which districts were the most well off?" she asks. No one raises their hand, save for a couple kids in the back, so she settles her silver gaze on a golden-haired boy in front; he's sitting with District 13. "You."

"Me?" he asks, pointing to himself, and she nods (though a bit exasperatedly). "It was the districts closest to the Capitol, wasn't it? I mean, since they were closer, they had more access to the money. And I guess it probably had something to do with what they produced."

She cracks a smile. "Excellent. What is your name?"

He grins. "Phoenix Kade."

"Thank you, Phoenix. Now, to follow up with his answer - what were these desirable resources that these districts offered? Why were they so important to the Capitol?" She looks around for a moment before settling on the girl from Eight. The brunette squeaks when she realizes that Professor Porter has singled her out. "What's your name?"

"Kate Abner," she says, but it's so quiet she might as well have said nothing at all.

"Woah, she can talk," River gasps, earning a quiet round of giggles and chuckles from around the room. Kate sinks into her seat, her face turning a dangerous shade of red; unfortunately, camouflage has never been one of her stronger points.

The professor glowers at everyone, immediately silencing them, then patiently turns her focus back to Kate, who is still recovering from the embarrassment. "Um," Kate clears her throat and tries to project her voice, "District 1 was in charge of luxury, so naturally the Capitol adored them because they were so in love with the extravagant things that came out of the district, like diamonds and jewels. District 2 was in charge of masonry, which supplied them with both weapons and Peacekeepers to oppress other districts. District 4 is surrounded by water, which made them ideal for fishing and ports."

"Yes, precisely. The Capitol depended desperately on these districts for their lavish lifestyles. These districts benefited greatly because of this dependence; they much more well off than the others. Life was much more different for the people who lived in Luxury than for those who lived in Mining."

"It's not like that's changed much." The attention shifts to District 12, where Rain is glowering at the professor. "Life is _still_ much more different for the people who live in Mining as opposed to someone who lives in Luxury or Masonry. Everything out there is _still_ worse than it should be."

Professor Porter cooly raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "It is nothing like how it used to be in the past. What you have now is the equivalent to what Luxury had-"

"People lived in shacks with air conditioning and heat that works once a week? People had to live on the scraps of their wealthier neighbors? People had to deal with meager health care and-"

"Perhaps instead of complaining, you should try to change all these things you are so unhappy with," Professor Porter snaps, finally losing her cool. The class is mildly shocked, because she has been so in control and so nonchalant this entire time; Rain looks mildly pleased with herself despite her own anger. "I do not need ignorant children telling me about the economy of the nation."

"Yes, because you people are all about the numbers, and the numbers are all that matters. That's why we're being forced to take this class," Rain hisses.

The professor raises her chin and sneers at her indignantly. "You may think you are above me because you are fighting for the 'oppressed,' but what have you done for Unified Panem? What have you done that has benefited this nation? Precisely that - nothing. You are all children, here to _learn_ so that you may contribute something to society." The look on her face refuses to accept anymore arguments, and Rain complies, though she continues to glare at the professor from her seat. "Now, back to our lecture. Despite the Capitol's preference and obvious favor for Districts 1, 2, and 4, they also needed the other districts. After all, without them, they would have no clothing, food, technology, transportation, etc."

"If the Capitol needed us so much, then why did it take so long for us to rebel and put them down?" Korra asks. She is the only representative from District 9. "Everything the needed came from us; without us, they'd fall."

"Can anyone from District 13 answer that question?" Professor Porter asks, lapsing into her tone of indifference once again.

"Remember when we tried to rebel in the so-called 'dark days'? Remember when we lost and had to go underground into hiding? Remember when all of you guys thought we were dead for, like, seventy-five years? Yeah, that's basically it," Lila Waters answers with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "Yeah, the Capitol depended on us, but they had so much power and we were so weak and divided, it didn't matter. Perimeters were set up around the districts to keep us from interacting with each other. Divided we are weak, as they say."

"Wow. I bet Mr. Trapp would be floored if he knew you knew something about history," Catcher teases. "I bet he'd give you a higher grade if you told him."

She rolls her aquamarine eyes. "It's not something everyone shouldn't already know. Besides, my dad's been drilling it into my head since I was a kid. He'd probably make me run five miles if I couldn't recite that."

"Ouch, military parents…"

Professor Porter claps again to regain the attention of the classroom. "Yes, yes, thank you, Lila. In any event - this is not a class for discussing what happened in the past; that's for your history class."

"Too bad we don't learn anything in there, either," mumbles the younger boy from District 5.

"Joel," Oralee hisses, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

"That's something you should take up with your history teacher," the professor replies disinterestedly. "This class focuses on the here and now. What happened in the past doesn't matter." Her eyes shift around the classroom, observing the faces of the children under her charge. Most of them look bored; some of them, however, look absolutely infuriated by what she has just said. "You - the other girl from 13. You look like you have something you want to say."

Lila chortles a bit, because the girl sitting next to her looks like she wants to tear out the professor's throat. "I don't really have anything to say," Allegra replies coolly, though her green eyes say otherwise. "After all, I'm just the student; I've got nothing to contribute." There's something very dark and condescending in her voice that almost frightens their economics teacher, but she brushes it off.

"I do," hisses Skyloh, who's sitting with three other students from District 7.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." She's on her feet now, with her fists clenched at her sides. "You honestly don't think the past matters? Do you truly believe that it has no influence on how the country is run today?"

"That is exactly how I feel," she answers calmly. "Economics is about the here and now, the today. What is important - money, wealth - depends on how we act _now_. If we spend too much time dwelling on past failures or depending on past successes, then ultimately we will fail."

"Everything is about money," the blonde spits, absolutely disgusted, "isn't it? Nothing else matters when you have comfort and wealth. Who cares if greed for that sort of thing is what ruined us in the past?"

"C'mon, Skyloh, calm down," Keldon whispers beside her, trying to tug on her to sit down. She completely brushes him off and continues glowering at Professor Porter, who looks somewhat amused.

"And that is exactly what I am talking about," Professor Porter says with a tone of finality. "'What happened in the past' is what everyone dwells on, and it is why we fail. We focus too much on what has already happened, as opposed to what is happening how. Let me make this very clear to all of you - the past is of no importance. It will do you no good to recall; forget about it."

* * *

><p>"She's crazy," Terra announces once the class is over. "This class is going to suck… I didn't mind Accounting because Mr. Sailles didn't care if we slept or not." She sighs dramatically as she wraps her dark brown hair around her finger.<p>

"What a terrible way to end the day, too," Matteo agrees with a sigh. "I mean, I like money as much as the next guy, but talking about all the science and math behind it isn't all that fun. Do you think I could transfer out?"

"Good luck with that," Riley laughs. "You have to take the same classes as everyone in your class. Also, I've been trying to get out of English since the beginning of the year, and it hasn't worked, so…"

Terra groans and disrupts the conversation, earning a couple laughs from her friends. "Ugh, whatever." She pulls out a small pocket mirror from her purse and applies a fresh coat of lip gloss. "It's the weekend, so let's just stop talking about school. I'd prefer to just not think about it for the next two days."

"Remember, we have a field trip tomorrow, though," Mattheo corrects, causing her to groan again. "Hey, it's not that bad! I mean, I think we're just going into District 1, to talk to the mayor and stuff. It's basically like a vacation."

Riley raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, except we'll be taking notes and the professor from hell will be with us."

"Well, if you're always going to look at the downside of things…" He yelps as a whirlwind of brown rushes past him, nearly knocking him over into Terra (who would have thrown a fit because she was still adjusting herself in the mirror). "Oi, Ruby, watch out! You'll wipe someone out if you don't slow down one day."

"Sorry!" she apologizes over her shoulder, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm late for a meeting with River and the others!" She's gone before he can say anything else.

"Meeting?" Riley mumbles. "Since when do twelve and fourteen-year-olds have meetings?"

Her companions shrug, having never really cared much for the younger generation in their class.

"Hey, Jorden!" Riley calls over to the only representative of District 1 in their class, who is standing in the courtyard with his girlfriend. "You're going to the party tonight, right? At the Warehouse?"

"Yeah, but I'll probably be a little late," he says with a small smile. "Cole says he wants to hit up the gym before we go, so we might not be there until nine. You know how he gets." All three of them chortle because _everyone_ knows how Cole Nature gets when it comes to going to the gym and working out. "I'm trying to convince Rea to come along, too, but Zax can't make it, so she's trying to wriggle her way out of it."

"Eh, I'll stop by her room later and try to convince her to come," Terra says as she waves goodbye. The trio come across the brother-sister pair of their class shortly after, and Terra grins brightly at the male. "Hey, Lewis! Are you coming to the party tonight? We're celebrating… someone's birthday."

"Altair's," Mattheo reminds with a sigh.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you think you'll be able to make it?" Her eyes casually drift to Lorea, who looks more irritated than usual. Terra laughs awkwardly and rubs the back of her neck. "Of course, you're invited, too, Lorea. Everyone in our class is!"

"No thanks, I'll pass," she grunts, brushing past her briskly.

"I'll try to bring her along, but I can't make any promises," Lewis says sheepishly. "But I'll definitely be there. Seven at the Warehouse, right?" She nods affirmatively. "Great, well, I'll see you guys later. I'm gonna try to catch up with her before she lights anything on fire." They all laugh, but part of them wonders how serious he actually is.

Terra pumps her fists into the air excitedly. "Well, I don't care how much economics is ruining my life - I'm gonna have the time of my life tonight!"

* * *

><p>"There will be one bus moving from the former Capitol into District 1 tomorrow, at approximately noon their time. Thirty-two students, plus one professor, will be on board. The route they will be taking includes the serpentine pass through the mountains."<p>

"Excellent. I have it everyone is ready, then?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"They will be made an example of, to the rest of Unified Panem. We will make them remember who we are."

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Stripped" - Shiny Toy Guns<p>

* * *

><p>fkdsjfkldsjf I am so sorry this took so long to get out. Finals are finally over, I am home for three and a half months, and I am ready to go! Those of you who have been reviewing and supporting me - you are awesome and I absolutely adore you. I am really working on character development, but at the same time I was to feature all of these wonderful characters you have sent in to me. I hope I've lived up to your expectations!<p>

I will update as soon as I can!

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>fraulein renoh


	4. abe igne ignem capere

Author's Note:

To all of those who have started summer vacation - happy summer! To those who haven't, you've only got a little bit more to go, I promise! I'm currently babysitting/nannying, with four hours of free time while he's at school, with no internet access, so - writing galore! So, thank you to everyone who's reviewed; you guys are the best. I know I say it all the time, but I really cannot express how much I love and appreciate you guys.

That being said, happy Hunger Games! Also, the beginning of this chapter is mostly thanks to cassia glitter, who requested a description of all the characters since there are so many to keep track of.

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Three  
>Abe Igne Ignem Capere<p>

Opening Song: "The Ruler and the Killer" - Kid Cudi

* * *

><p>"Prime Minister Snow." The figure cloaked in black walks into the office, with a thick folder tucked under his arm. "The profiles of the students have just arrived. These are the ones that will be traveling into District 1 with Professor Porter later today." She wordlessly takes the folder and opens the flap, so that the picture of an upperclassmen from the Academy of Unified Panem is looking up at her. "We've also a large file of the professor, if you'd like to look at that as well."<p>

She flicks her wrist dismissively. "I know enough of _Professor Porter_," (she speaks the name with venom), "already. Besides, she is not the important one in this picture; she is merely a background figure."

"Yes, ma'am." He bows deeply at the waist. "Is there anything else you require?"

"No. I need time to go over all of these before I give my final word. Make sure to have everyone on standby, though; by this afternoon, we should be ready to strike." He bows one last time before dismissing himself from the prime minister's office.

With a barely visible but malicious smile, she begins her research.

**From District 1**:

Jorden Biber, 18, male. Milk chocolate brown hair, brown eyes, average height and weight. Passionate, sympathetic, social, influential, weak conviction when it comes to choosing himself over others. Has a father and a mother, plus a girlfriend and many acquaintances and friends. Very popular at the Academy, especially for someone in class 7-A.

Terra Rush, 17, female. Dark brown and curly hair, brown eyes, 5' 6", average weight. Charming, social, very aware of her sway over others, friendly, careless. Father passed away at a young age, has a mother and two older brothers, and a myriad of friends and acquaintances. Has a clean record and good grades overall.

**From District 2:**

Dahlia Dunbryll, 16, female. Wavy blonde hair, brown eyes, 5' 6", 125 lbs. Witty, confident, patient, good with improvising, stubborn, expressive, dominant, low self-control, bossy, aggressive. Deceased mother, father (Gerrard), two brothers (Klaus and Jakob), particularly close to Lana Wood and Zook Merrow. Family has been involved in masonry since before Unified Panem.

Riley Maryn, 16, female. Honey blonde hair, hazel eyes, 5' 7", 112 lbs. Outgoing, sweet, weak familial ties, emotional. The only child of Margret and Steven Maryn, has many acquaintances and friends, but spends a good amount of time with Terra Rush and Mattheo Shermore. Has proven to be somewhat cunning; could be looked into further.

Cole Nature, 18, male. Black hair, green eyes, tall, muscular build. Distrustful, anti-social, solitary, quiet, keeps to himself. Father is missing, mother is in the mental ward, sister is deceased; has only his fourteen-year-old younger brother. Spends all of his time in the gym working out; has no real connections with anyone at school.

**From District 3:**

Rea, 17, female. Curly black hair, blue eyes, 5' 1", toned but thin. Kind, sweet, social but slightly introverted, optimistic, protective, book smart, intelligent. Mother (Xia), father (Luvo), younger brother (Kino), and particularly close to friends outside of class. Had a younger sister who died due to being born prematurely; continues to haunt the family.

Oliver Winters, 14, male. Blonde hair, blue eyes, average height and weight. Very intelligent, educated, curious, answer-seeking, confident in his knowledge, anti-social. Father Larry died in the workplace, mother Kimberly. Has no real friends or acquaintances, and prefers to be on his own, usually reading.

Drizzle Ainsworth, 14, female. Blonde hair with purple highlights, brown/black eyes, short stature, average weight. Intelligent, selfish, keeps to herself, anti-social, distrustful. Has only her mother Caroline. Not a very friendly individual, avoids socializing and spending time with others at all costs. Dedicated only to her mother.

**From District 4:**

Altair Osriel, 18, male. Curly auburn hair, light gray eyes, 6' 3", thin. Reserved, social, warm, excellent conversationalist, friendly, patient, not very good with confrontation, intelligent, daydreams and dozes off easily. Father (Yule), mother (Aeria), older brother (Cairoh), three younger sisters (Nadaia, Cella, Linnea). Younger sister Marigold is deceased. Very family-oriented and good with people due to his upbringing. Popular with most everyone, but close with Hawk Riley and Luke Darkwood.

Lana Wood, 17, female. Curly dirty blonde hair, green eyes, 5' 6", average weight. Attention-seeker, neurotic, wildly shifting personalities, possibly very insecure and afraid of being forgotten. Mother Elaine and father Derek are constantly working, has a large circle of acquaintances, but close mostly to Dahlia Dunbryll and Zook Merrow. Familial connections are not particularly strong and might explain her constantly changing personality.

River Matthias, 14, female. Long, wavy dark brown hair, green eyes, 5' 1", very small. Sarcastic, witty, initially very cruel, can be loyal, fun-seeking, very honest, holds grudges. Has an older brother and both parents, though is not close to them. Best friends with a boy named Reef from another class, but gets along well with most everyone in 7-A.

**From District 5:**

Joel Conner, 12, male. Black-brown hair, pale blue eyes, freckles, average height, very thin. Intelligent, thoughtful, quiet, observant, blunt, likable, quick learner. Mother, father, older brother (Cayden), younger sister (Neera). Closest to his family, though he has a small circle of friends.

Oralee Roshan, 15, female. Long strawberry blonde hair, yellow-green eyes, average height, willowy build. Motherly, practical, has a lot of common sense, loves younger kids, social, easily annoyed, intimidated by those larger than her. Father (Cyrus), mother (Aubrey, paralyzed from the waist down), younger brother (Easton), younger sisters (Adelaide, Merril). Has taken the underclassmen under her wing and looks at them as her younger siblings.

**From District 6:**

Lewis Carnet, 15, male. Shaggy blonde hair, dark gray eyes, 5' 6", average build. Social, friendly, gives in to peer pressure, outgoing, dependable, optimistic, charming, persuasive, impulsive. Mother (Delilah), father (Derek), younger sister (Lorea), girlfriend (Thalia Wiles). Thought of as "the better half" of the Carnet twins, both by teachers and peers.

Lorea Carnet, 15, female. Platinum blonde hair, gray eyes, 5' 6", thin and slender. Reserved, dislikes being the center of attention, detached from social bonds, cold, harsh judge of character, anti-social, dry sense of humor, intelligent. Mother (Delilah), father (Derek), older brother (Lewis). Prefers being alone; is believed to be the result of treatment from indifferent parents.

**From District 7:**

Mykal Duncan, 15, female. Auburn hair, dark brown eyes, 5' 5", fit. Spirited, independent, always speaks her mind, good with people, charitable, has a slight temper, impatient. Father (Jed), mother (Sara), brother (Caden), sister (Caroline). Is particularly attached to classmate Keldon Peak, but gets along with most everyone. Family is lower class in terms of wealth.

Luke Darkwood, 18, male. Spiky black hair, golden eyes, tall, very fit. Extremely energetic, excited, lively, dauntless, lacks stealth and conspicuousness. Father (Dale), mother is deceased, brother (Bo), sister (Andrea), girlfriend (Melissa Winters). Member of student government, close friends with Hawk Riley and Altair Osriel.

Keldon Peak, 14, male. Short dark brown hair, amber eyes, average height and weight. Sweet, joking, entertaining, easy to get along with, social, intelligent, inflexible. Mother (Susan), father (Foster), brother (Asher, deceased), sister (Caylah). Has many friends, but is also attached to Mykal.

Skyloh Hemmington, 16, female. Short platinum blonde hair, hazel eyes, average height, slender. Loud, outspoken, defiant, difficult to either please or anger, can be ruthless and temperamental. Parents deceased, younger brother (Stark). Parents were murdered by Peacekeepers claiming it was an accident and that they were mistaken as criminals. Holds a grudge against the current government.

**From District 8:**

Nyle Grimmsley, 17, male. Dark hair, jade green eyes, average height, lanky. Inferiority complex, rift in personalities, complex. Mother (May), father (Taran, deceased), sister (Lisha). Very reserved, not much is known about him. Almost seems as though he is afraid of himself.

Kate Abner, 15, female. Long, tangled dark brown hair, hazel eyes, thin and stick-like. Intelligent but quiet, curious, has difficulty paying attention, wishes to fit in, whimsical. Mother, father, sister (Avery). Parents are well off, but she isn't a social butterfly; she tends to stick to herself despite wanting to fit in with the others.

**From District 9:**

Korra Blackthorne, 16, female. Chestnut brown hair, green eyes, average height, thin and slightly underfed. Sassy, clever, anti-social, solitary, enjoys spending time alone, distrustful of people in general, resourceful. Father (Amadeus) and mother (Mithra). Fond and loving of her parents, though is unlikely to extend that love to others. Has a soft spot for her roommate Rea.

**From District 10:**

Mattheo Shermore, 16, male. Black hair, green eyes, average height and build. Kind, dozes off, easy to impress, friendly, loyal, fun-loving, compassionate, likable, trusting. Father, mother, sister (Victorique). Easily offended but has a way with people; he spends most of his time with Riley Maryn, Terra Rush, and a handful of other people from other classes.

Zook Merrow, 17, male. Black hair, dark brown eyes, 6' 6", lanky. Laidback, always joking around, optimistic, loyal to those who are loyal to him, creative, mildly shy, utilizes common sense, street smart. Mother and father; mother is sickly. Doesn't have a large number of friends due to shyness; friends with Dahlia Dunbryll and Lana Wood.

**From District 11:**

Ruby Samim, 12, female. Brown hair, brown eyes, average build. Social, brave, cunning, outgoing, energetic, high stamina. Mother (deceased), father, older brother. Not particularly close to anyone in class, but gets along with most everyone. Known for running around campus.

Hawk Riley, 18, male. Brown hair with gold streaks, honey-colored eyes, average height, strong build, a long scar on his arm. Mischievous, likes a challenge, laid-back, fun-loving, adventure-seeking, a bit of a troublemaker. Dacker (father) and mother (Halli); good relations with mother, very poor with father. Upbeat and lively, but not very social. On student government with friends Altair Osriel and Luke Darkwood.

**From District 12:**

Thistle Black, 15, male. Long black hair, gray eyes, average height and build. Troublemaker, anti-social, intelligent, closed off, detached, snarky, rude, not very likable, prankster. Mother (Mazzy) and father (Joe). Has no real friends at school and has gotten in trouble on numerous occasion. Has shown to be polite and protective of the younger students, however.

Rain Clomb, 18, female. Long red hair, brown eyes, average height and build. Sympathetic, compassionate, outspoken, passionate, loving and protective of family and friends. Parents deceased, brothers (Kyle, Tuck), sisters (Sarina, Dove). Has close relations with Stephan Tre and his family from District 12.

**District 13:**

Allegra Grimstone, 15, female. Wavy auburn hair, green eyes, 5' 7", 100 lbs. Enigmatic, quiet, keeps to herself, anti-social, intimidating. Parents deceased, currently lives with her aunt. Was involved in an accident with her family as a child, in which her parents perished. Was apparently poorly cared after by her current guardians.

Lila Waters, 16, female. Dyed red/orange/blonde hair, aquamarine eyes, average structure. Hot-headed, arrogant, troublemaker, fights authority constantly, hot temper. Mother (Hannah), father (Gregory) - both involved in the military of the government in some way. Has been known to go out to late night parties with a group of friends, none of which are in her current class. Often gets into trouble.

Catcher, Hollowind, 17, male. Spiky black hair, gray eyes, average build, scar below left eye, dragon tattoo winding around right arm. Sarcastic, chivalrous, joking, lighthearted, not easily angered, calm, determined, trusting of others. Three brothers (Camphor, Donnen, Switch) and twin sister (Timber). Friendly and overall likable by others, he has many fans in and out of class 7-A.

Phoenix Kade, 17, male. Golden blonde hair, amber eyes, tall, fit. Witty, sarcastic, enjoys being the center of attention, laughs at anything, doesn't take very many things seriously, reckless, impulsive. Father (Coronis), mother (Jayde), sister (Aurora). A very friendly individual, he gets along with almost everyone and is well-liked by students and teachers alike.

Prime Minister Snow closes the file as soon as she's done reviewing the final candidate. A pleased, triumphant smile settles on her lips as she folds her fingers in front of her contemplatively. "Class 7-A," she murmurs, tracing the bold print on the file with a perfectly manicured finger. "Welcome to the 76th Hunger Games."

* * *

><p>The sun lights up Unified Panem so that the buildings and signs are almost glittering. For most, it is a sign of a blessing, a sign that implies that everything is finally perfect and as it should be. For others, like the students who were out all last night, it is nothing more than a curse.<p>

"Fuck," Lila groans as she holds her throbbing head in her hands. "I don't think my head has ever hurt this much." She winces painfully as they pass by a particularly bright building. Despite all the fun she had last night, she's beginning to wish she hadn't stayed out as late as she did. Though, as she looks around at her fellow classmates, it's nice to know that she isn't the only one in agony.

"Staying out 'til four in the morning before a class field trip probably wasn't the best idea," Hawk mumbles as he rubs his temples and settles his sunglasses on his nose. He tries to ignore the fact that almost everyone else is wearing them as well. "But a certain _someone_ believes in going all out or not going at all." He shoots a sharp glare in Luke's direction, who, despite having partied just as hard (if not harder) than his friend, is donning a cheerful grin.

"Hey, it's not like I asked you to stay the entire time," he rebukes good-naturedly. "Me and Melissa were having a great time on our own; you're the one who refused to leave without me."

"Yeah, because I was afraid you were gonna end up in a ditch if I didn't walk you back to your dorm," Hawk hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And freakin' Altair. Remind me never to let you get wasted again. God damn, you are the biggest pain in the ass to look after when you're drunk."

Though he too is sporting the typical hangover kit, Altair is smiling congenially. "Sorry. I guess I don't hold my alcohol very well."

Luke scoffs loudly and pats him roughly on the back, earning a grunt of pain. "The only way to celebrate your birthday is by celebrating to the extreme - which is exactly what we did. I doubt anyone'll ever forget it!"

He chuckles, though it's a bit strained. He lightly pats Luke on the shoulder, as though serving as an example of how to treat someone still recovering from a night of debauchery. "Thanks, guys. You're the best." They all come to a pause once they approach the bus stop. "But right now I'm just looking forward to a calm, relaxing-"

"Great party last night, Altair!" All three wince and stifle their groans as Skyloh skips up to them excitedly. She's wearing a bright grin, accompanied by shining eyes. She, obviously, is not suffering from the same malfunction as everyone else. "Oh, and happy birthday again!"

"Thanks," he says, managing a smile. "I'm glad you could make it. I'm surprised so many people from our class actually went."

She snorts, though she's wearing a teasing grin. "Oh please. Stop pretending you don't know how popular are."

He holds his hands in the air defensively. "I plead the fifth."

The underclassmen take up the bench at the bus stop, and despite the fact that they're all looking better than their upperclassmen, none of them look very excited. "Geez, another field trip into District 1," River mumbles with a heavy sigh. "Why don't they ever take us anywhere else? I could map out all of District 1, we've been there so many times. There's not even anything fun to look at or do." She kicks a rock on the side of the road.

"It's closer, which means it's cheaper," Joel answers with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "The school probably won't pay very much just for us to go a field trip, so their choices are limited. Besides, it would take days to get to District 12 or any of the outer districts by bus."

Ruby jumps onto her feet, unable to keep still. "That's a lame excuse," she denounces, frowning. "Why don't we take the train, then? I always take the train when I come up here for the school year."

"It probably costs more to buy train tickets for all of us than to just get a bus," Drizzle reasons disinterestedly. "There are over thirty of us in this class; procuring individual tickets for each of us would be over the top."

River rolls her eyes. "Whatever. We'd be paying for something worth it. We're gonna be spending six hours driving to District 1 on a nasty bus squished with thirty people. We also have to go through the mountain range, so we're gonna be all up against each other the entire time." Drizzle wrinkles her nose at the description, resulting in an 'I told you so' look from the small brunette. "I'm definitely not looking forward to this."

"Well it's not gonna be any fun if you keep looking at it like that, hun," Oralee scolds, wagging a finger at them. "You just gotta look at the bright side of things. I mean, how often is it that we get to travel like this?"

Oliver quirks an eyebrow. "Like this, as in, squished between three people on one seat on a tiny, hot bus?"

She gives him a weak look of admonishment. "No, _this_, as in traveling together as a class. I mean, I know we've all traveled to District 1 before, but this is the first time we get to go as this class."

"And what's so special about this class?" Drizzle mumbles under her breath, though it's loud enough for Oralee to catch.

"Drizzle!"

The students from District 13 stand off to the side on their own, with Lila still groaning and the others crowding around her to serve as a sort of protective shield from the sun. "I bet you're regretting staying out that extra hour now, aren't you?" Catcher teases, earning a painful jab to the back of his knee. "Ow! I was just kidding, yeesh," he mumbles, rubbing the wounded area. "Though I doubt you can say you don't regret it."

"I don't regret anything," she snaps, but the way she's massaging her temples says otherwise. "Damn Rainer just brought so much alcohol… Ugh, I don't even know where that guy gets it."

"Well, he's over twenty-one, isn't he? I think that's the answer to that," Phoenix chirps, much to her annoyance. (Though, honestly, everything is annoying her right now, especially the fact that she isn't in bed on Saturday morning.) "Anyway, just try to think of the bus ride as a chance for a nice, long nap."

"You're shitting me, right?" she asks sardonically, glaring at him from behind her large sunglasses. "You've been on one of these field trips before; it's impossible to get any sleep on the ride. The trail they take is intended to spite any of us who actually want to sleep." Lila sighs heavily as she holds her throbbing head in her hands. "It doesn't help that we're gonna be in Luxury for an entire day, either. They place is practically one huge diamond, and everyone who lives there is an ass. I hate going there."

"Maybe she should narrow it down to what she _does_ like," Catcher mumbles to Phoenix, who laughs heartily. Typically she would punch him, but she's too tired and too busy trying to hide herself from the sun to move. "Hey, it sucks, but this counts as a huge part of our grade. Besides, I bet Allegra hates it, but you don't hear her complaining." The trio look over to the fifteen-year-old standing near enough to be associated with them, but far enough away to not have to actually communicate with them. She glances at them upon hearing her name, rolls her eyes, and shrugs. "See? You should take it in stride, like her."

Lila shoots him a deadpan look. "If I didn't respect you as a human being, I would hate you." His only response is to grin.

"Ah, look! The bus is coming," Phoenix points out.

Sure enough, the bright yellow vehicle slowly makes its way over to the motley crew. Standing at the head of the class is Professor Porter who, in contrast to her less than pristine-looking students, is dressed to impress in a fancy pin-striped suit. "Gather around, class. Come on, look lively, folks," she drawls as she readjusts the designer sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. "We only have six hours to get to District 1, and it's all work from there. Go on, go, go go." She ushers all of 7-A onto the bus like cattle, and when finally the last student hops on ("_Do_ try to contain your energy, Ruby," she sighs), the doors close behind her. Without a moment to waste, the bus takes off.

"Settle down, class," she orders evenly from the front of the bus. Everyone is still settling into their seats, trying to decide who they want to sit by for the next six hours and who they want to avoid. "Please, settle down." She allows them another two minutes, which is apparently ample time, because now thirty-two pairs of eyes are staring back at her. (Though admittedly most of them are blurry or glazed over.) "In approximately six hours we will be crossing the boundary line into District 1. Upon arriving, we will visit the mayor of the city, then his advisor, the treasury, security, etc. Afterwards, we will take a tour through the city, where we will talk to some of the most important people working in District 1, including large and small business owners."

"I have a question," Mykal announces, throwing a hand up into the air. Everyone, including Professor Porter, resists the urge to groan; they've come to realize that Mykal always has a question. "Is that all we're going to be doing to day - going around talking to people?"

The professor folds her arms across her chest, an act that implies depleting patience. "If you word it that way, it certainly does sound very bland." Mykal flushes, because she didn't mean to insult Professor Porter, and from the look on her face she has definitely been insulted. "The reason why we are going on this field trip is so that you may expand your knowledge and learn about the outside world. You get a chance to see real people working real jobs, living their every day lives. I should think you would all be excited to be given this opportunity."

No one's sure if she's being sarcastic or not, so they all remain silent. She turns around with a quiet "humph" and sits down, across from the bus driver. They assume that's the last they'll hear from her until they finally arrive.

Rea sighs softly as she leans her head against the window. Korra, who is sitting next to her, quirks an eyebrow inquisitively. "What's the matter with you? I thought you loved these trips out of the capital city."

She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes like it usually does. "I do. I think it's a great opportunity to finally leave the city and see other districts, but… Well, I'd been planning to spend the day with Zax since Diala's going back to her district to visit her parents. We'd had the entire day planned out, but I just forgot about this whole thing."

"Zax…" Korra says, unsure of who her roommate is talking about. "Oh, you mean the bulky brunet you're always with?" At the mere mention of his description, a light blush dusts Rea's cheek. The simple response draws an almost teasing smirk to Korra's face. "Geez, I know the two of you spend all that time together, but I didn't think you were actually a 'thing.'"

"What are you talking about?" she asks, devoid of stutters but obviously unable to brush off the accusation. "Zax and I are just friends. We've known each other since we both started going to the academy, we're just-"

"Friends, yeesh, I know," Korra cuts her off. "All you people who are 'just friends' are so defensive." Though she drops the topic (much to Rea's delight and relief) and closes her eyes as she leans back, Rea smiles, because she thinks she might finally be rubbing off on her roommate.

Towards the back of the bus, Dahlia, who's seated between Zook and Lana, allows her head to droop against her male friend's shoulder. "I'm so tired," she whines, her voice stifled by the fabric of his t-shirt. "Why am I even up right now?"

"Because you'd fail the class if you didn't show up," Zook answers good-naturedly.

"How are you so awake and why are you so damn perky?" she snaps. Her words and tone would offend anyone else, but both he and Lana are used to her morning grumpiness by now. "Uggggh, I just want to go to sleep and never wake up."

"I think that's called death," Lana comments as she pulls out her pocket mirror. Quickly, but skillfully, she applies makeup to her face, covering up the dark bags under her vibrant green eyes. "Also, I told you we should have gone back to the room at midnight, but nooo, you wanted to stay later. Good thing Zook, stayed, too; there's no way I would have been able to drag your sorry ass back on my own."

Dahlia's head doesn't move from its position on Zook's shoulder, but she still manages to deliver a painful blow to her friend's shoulder. "Are you calling me fat?" she growls. "And don't act like you're all innocent - you wanted to stay just as long as I did."

Lana snorts as she delivers a kick to Dahlia's shin. "Wanting to and actually doing it are two totally different things. I can actually acknowledge my limits."

The blonde opens her mouth, ready with a retort, but forfeits with a grunt. "Yeah, whatever."

"I wonder how many people showed up last night," Jorden muses, from the seat across the aisle. "I don't think I've ever seen the Warehouse that crowded. I heard they had to start kicking people out at six because so many of them refused to leave for closing."

"It wouldn't surprise me. A bunch of people showed up just for their usual clubbing, but most were there for Altair's birthday," says Lana. "Practically all the upperclassmen in the academy came."

"It's a shame you guys couldn't show up," Jorden states as he leans forward, so that his arms are resting on Kate and the Carnet twins' seat. "I bet it would have been a lot more fun if it wasn't just a sixteen and up club."

While Kate blushes from the attention of the popular upperclassman, Lorea glowers at him and Lewis smiles. "Well, I probably wouldn't have gone anyway," the male says, contrary to what he had been saying the day before. "Lorea was feeling a little sick, so she needed someone to take care of her." His sister nudges him painfully in the ribs, causing him to yelp. "Ah, I mean… She just wasn't feeling well."

"Sorry to hear about that," the older student says, smiling with genuine sympathy. "I hope you're feeling better today."

Rather than thanking him, Lorea just rolls her eyes and folds her arms across her chest, not wanting to talk to him. Lewis sends him an inconspicuous apologetic look. "Yeah, she's feeling better now, which is good since we're gonna be busy all day."

"I hope we get some free time to wander around the city on our own," Kate says softly. "We go out to District 1 or 2 every year, but I don't think I've ever seen anything more than the city hall and some big businesses. It'd be nice to see everything else for once."

"That would be nice," Lewis agrees. "We might not have that much luck, though, considering who's in charge." They all glance towards the front of the bus, where Professor Porter is crossing things out furiously on her clipboard. "But there's always wishful thinking," he adds, seeing the crestfallen expression on Kate's face. "We'll be getting there around noon or one, so who knows?"

Cole shifts uncomfortably beside Jorden as Lewis attempts to cheer up the blonde. "You didn't even go to the party last night, and you look like you're ready to kill," Jorden teases, trying to ease up his usual cold demeanor with a light smile.

The dark-haired male beside him grunts, shifting again so that he's practically smashing himself against the wall of the bus. "I hate these trips," he declares lowly, his green optics focused on the passing scenery outside the window. "They're just a waste of time."

Jorden's smile twitches ever-so-slightly, threatening to fall, but he manages a simper for the boy he's been trying to befriend all year. "You're from District 2, though, aren't you? It must be nice to go home every one and a while during the school year. I bet your family's always excited to see you when you pop up randomly."

Something flashes in his eyes at the mention of his family, but he's not someone who brings up those dearest to him in casual conversation. As soon as the spark is there, it's gone, and Jorden can't help but be slightly disappointed. "We've only gone into District 2 twice, in all the years I've been at the academy. We always just end up going into District 1 'cause it's closer and the school's cheap as hell."

He tries not to look too offended since District 1 is his home and he's as proud of his district as anyone would be, and he knows that Cole isn't out to personally upset him. Nevertheless, his smile tightens and he nods, choosing to end the conversation that had never really started. He cranes his head around to look at Terra, who's already fast asleep against Riley, who in turn is leaning against Mattheo.

"Both of them fell asleep before he could even pull away from the curb," Riley whispers, caught between her two friends.

"Lucky them. Or should I say, lucky you?"

She smiles sarcastically, but tries to fall asleep in her little niche anyway. Jorden turns around, notices that Cole is still glaring out the window, and settles in his seat. Slowly, he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

* * *

><p>"The bus is approaching now."<p>

"They're nearing the curve."

"Be prepared."

"We're ready."

* * *

><p>Professor Porter rubs at her eyes, trying to fight off the sleep that is overtaking her. They are halfway through the drive, though, and she's sure she can make it through another three hours, no matter how arduous they may be. She turns in her seat to look back at the students; half of them are fast asleep, some of them are just waking up because of the bumpy, twisting roads, and the rest are just as lively as ever. Sighing, she shifts into her original position and leans her head back against the headrest.<p>

"Are we there yet?" chimes River's impatient voice.

Her brow twitches ever-so-slightly. "No, we are not there yet - you would know if we were there. I will not play this childish game with you." A round of snickers and chuckles sound from behind her, further fueling her irritation, but she keeps calm and cool.

"Are you _suuuure_ we're not there yet?"

The question has already been asked twice, and she is on the verge of fury. It has to be the three hour ride and the less than pleasant driving conditions, she tries to reason with herself. She breathes in deeply, reminds herself to stay professional, and closes her eyes.

"Are we there y-"

Eyes flashing in rage, she spins around, giving them the deadliest look she can muster. "_No, _we are _NOT_ th-" She is only on her feet for a couple of seconds before she goes flying back against the windshield. The entire bus lurches forward in a painful collision, causing almost everyone to fall out of their seats. "Driver!" she hisses, clambering to her feet. "What in the world is going on! What are you-!" Something comes crashing through the windshield and rolls down the aisle; it is closely followed by three more objects.

"What's going on?" screams Terra.

No one even has the chance to think about it before all three bombs go off, completely engulfing everyone within the bus in smoke. "Professor-!" is all one of the underclassmen can choke out before all of them pass out.

* * *

><p>When Oliver finally comes to, his head is pounding, his eyes are stinging, and his entire body feels numb. He tries to brush the blond hair that has fallen into his eyes and face, but realizes he can't - his hands are bound behind him. Fear shoots through every facet of his body as he struggles to free his hands, then his legs. "Help, please, I-!" When his eyes finally adjust to the light, he sees that he is not alone, that everyone in his class is in the same position as he is.<p>

"Oliver, honey, calm down," Oralee soothes from beside him. Despite her calm tone, he can see the terror in her eyes. "Thank goodness you're awake," she says, managing a smile. "We thought you were out for good. We've been sitting in this room for almost half an hour now… Probably longer if we don't count the time we've been in here before we woke up."

Oliver takes in his surroundings and the people sitting around him. Most of these people are cheerful, outgoing, and happy, but not one of them, save for Oralee, is smiling. They are all tired and worn out, but there's something much more prominent than fatigue on their faces: fear.

"Welcome, welcome!" A bright spotlight beams down at the front of the room, forcing their attention to a small group of people standing on a high stage. Behind them, the students notice, is a large TV screen, and standing across from them is a camera crew. "Class 7-A of the Academy of Unified Panem - you have been chosen for this year's Hunger Games!" Almost everyone looks confused, save for a select few, who all look like they've been hit. "I am Prime Minister Snow, and I'm sure none of you know who I am." The woman who is speaking smiles tightly. "But there is no need to fear - you will all know me _very well_ soon enough."

The black screen flickers for a couple of moments before stabilizing on a zoomed in image of the Prime Minister and those accompanying her on stage. "The government of Unified Panem has kept us hidden for a century. To you, we do not exist. To them, your government, we are nothing more than a thorn in their side. But we are alive, we exist - and we are here to remind you that we are a force to be reckoned with." Two long, large banners stream down on either side of the screen, and imprinted on both of them are large symbols that the students can only recognize because they have seen them in textbooks.

"The Capitol," Drizzle gasps.

"Thiry-two lucky tributes have been chosen for this year's Hunger Games - the 76th Hunger Games, if you'd like to be precise." The prime minister is grinning now, but there is nothing friendly behind it. "There are a few… change of rules, however." Another spotlight shines directly on Professor Porter, who is bound to a chair with her mouth gagged. Around her neck is a peculiar metal collar. "Please take notice of this collar. Every tribute has one. It will detonate should any of them step outside the boundaries of the game, should they break any rules, etc. Now, if you'd like to see a demonstration…" She holds up a wireless control and her thumb lingers over the large red button in the middle.

Professor Porter squirms violently in her seat, trying to get out of the binds. Tears are rolling down her face as she shakes her head from side to side, a silent plea for mercy. Prime Minister Snow is not someone who shows mercy, however, and with a sadistic grin, she presses the button.

The collar immediately detonates, and before smoke covers the body, they can see her eyes turning red and the chair falling back.

A horrified scream rips through the room as everyone tries to get up, but they are just as powerless as Professor Porter. Prime Minister Snow watches the children with suppressed glee before turning her eyes back to the camera.

"There is a one month limit, and there is to be one victor by the time this comes - otherwise everyone will die in the same way your beloved professor just died. And should any government officials try to approach the island of Lemnos," (her thumb hovers over the button once more), "I will not hesitate to kill _every single one of your children_." Some students are sobbing now.

"This is here to serve as a reminder that the Capitol is not dead. You tried to erase us from history, but we are still here. We are still alive - and we are remaking history. _Abe Igne Ignem Capere_ - to fight fire with fire. That is exactly what we are doing. You tried to forget us, so we are making it so that we will never be forgotten. Do not do anything rash, beloved citizens of Unified Panem, for now your children are in our hands. Your future belongs to us."

She turns around to leave the stage, but before the lights shut off she glances back at the camera. "Oh, and may the odds _ever_ be in your favor." Her snake-like smile is the last thing on screen before it blacks out.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Stripped" - Shiny Toy Guns<p>

* * *

><p>Ten points to those of you who know what the collars were inspiredinfluenced by! Anyway, I am excited to finally start writing the actual Hunger Games, which obviously be a bit different than the ones we all know from the novels. The sponsor system/items are a lot different, but that will be explained in the next chapter.

I look forward to hearing from all of you soon!

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>fraulein renoh


	5. beauty queen

Author's Note:

Congrats to **shadow bender 7271** for getting the trivia (?) question right! The collars, plus the idea of the class being captured, was inspired by _Battle Royale_, which has many similarities with _the Hunger Games_. I actually have yet to read the book, though the movie is great, and I recommend it to all HG fans.

Annnnyway - thank you to everyone who reviewed, because you are all just fabulous and I adore you all so much. The feedback you give me means the world, and is the fuel for this story. :) I always feel terrible for making you guys wait, but last Sunday I bought Assassin's Creed 2: Brotherhood and spent the last five days playing it, ha ha. Nevertheless, happy reading!

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Four  
>Beauty Queen<p>

Opening Song: "The Ruler and the Killer" - Kid Cudi

* * *

><p><em>We will not negotiate. We demand the return of the children of Class 7-A from the Academy of Unified Panem. For the public execution of our respected Professor Dianne Porter, you will be punished. For an attempted revival of the Hunger Games, your entire society will suffer the consequences.<em>

_ We will not hear your demands. We will not be terrorized by you._

_ Peace between our two civilizations is no longer something that can be discussed. The time of peace has come to an end, and the fault shall fall under you._

_ The Capitol does not have much longer to live._

_Nadaia Mala  
><em>_President of Unified Panem_

Coal black eyes shift from the official letter to the children behind the glass. They have all quieted down now, suppressed by their fear and anxiety, though she can still hear sniffling from the younger ones. "It appears as thought the president is unwilling to compromise," Prime Minister Snow comments, though there is no hint of surprise in her voice. "Which means we may or may not have to show them just exactly how serious we are."

The man beside her cocks an eyebrow. "What should we do?"

"The obvious," she replies blandly as she folds up the letter and tucks it into her breast pocket. "We prepare the children for the Hunger Games. After all, the citizens of Panem must be a little rusty; it's been _years_." He smiles wryly, but says nothing more. "Banner, I have it that the preparation teams are ready?"

He bows deeply at the waist. "Yes, of course, Prime Minister. They've been ready for weeks now."

She chuckles at the hitch in her advisor's voice; he can barely suppress his excitement, she can tell. "Excellent. Have them on standby for tomorrow. I'd like the children to get a good night's rest before they start working. Also, I'd like each of the teams to receive profiles of their tributes, as some districts are more represented than others. I think a full night should be more than enough time to come up with a strategy."

"Yes, Prime Minister."

Stealing a glance at reflection in the glass, she runs her fingers through her graying hair and adjusts her blazer. Her fingers linger over the white rose clipped to her lapel as a small, sardonic smile crawls onto her face. Banner glances at the Prime Minister, who has a far away look in her eyes. "This will be the most memorable Hunger Games to date," she murmurs, her gaze lingering on the white-faced children. "Katniss Everdeen can't save you now."

* * *

><p>"Fuck." Thistle groans loudly as he holds his throbbing head in his hands. "My head has never hurt this bad." His vision is still blurry and his throat hurts, but he's grateful that he's no longer tied up. After the performance earlier that afternoon, the students were divided by district and lead to rooms that they would share with their district partners for the remainder of their time there. <em>"How long are we going to be here?"<em>

Rain sits on the other side of the small chamber, with her legs pulled up to her chest. She is still trying to piece everything together, still trying to make sense of what is happening to her. She wants to believe that she's still at school, in her dorm, safe and sound, but she knows that won't help her. Delusions will not save her from this cold room and hopeless situation. "What do we do?" she whispers, more to herself than to the dark-haired boy across from her. _"What can we do? Are we really that helpless? Are we just puppets in her game?"_

Thistle stands up briskly, drawing Rain out of her cloud of thoughts. Before she can ask what he's doing, he begins pounding on the metal door with his fists and feet. She can only stare with wide brown eyes as he curses and screams at the immovable object, demanding that they be let out. "This room is probably sound proof," she comments after a minute of fruitless assault on the door.

"They have cameras," he grunts, throwing in one last punch for good measure. His body lurches forward, so that he's leaning against the cool metal for support. "Bitch… That fucking bitch. Who the hell is she?" His voice is low, Rain notes, as though he is voicing his own thoughts to himself, as though he believes saying the words out loud will form an answer. She sees the twitching in his brow, though, sees the desperate look on his face that she never would have thought Thistle was capable of producing. "What the hell is going to happen to us…?"

The fear and hopelessness in his voice stirs something within her. She doesn't know what it is: rage because they were thrust into this situation, desperation because they have no way out, or despair because she realizes she may never see home again. All she knows is that her chest is aching, that her eyes are hot with tears, that her shoulders are shaking from unadulterated fear.

_"Do not do anything rash, beloved citizens of Unified Panem, for your children are in our hands. Your future belongs to us."_

Before she can start sobbing, she slaps a hand over her mouth. _"Stay calm, Rain. Stay cool. You can't lose yourself like this; freaking out won't get you out of this mess. You have to keep your head clear."_ She takes in a shaky breath and holds her face in her hands. _"You can't give up here. You can't leave them alone."_ She can see them watching her, waiting for her to come back. Kyle, Sarina, Dove, Tuck, and Stephan. They're all still back at District 12.

No, she can't give up now.

* * *

><p>Dahlia paces back and forth in the cell (because, really, prison cell is the only way she can describe the room she's trapped in) she shares with Riley and Cole. The former is sniffling and wiping away the last of her tears, but is otherwise silent. The latter, on the other hand, has been completely stoic during the entire ordeal. Dahlia doesn't have time to dwell on how bizarrely calm her fellow district member is; she's too busy trying piece together reality.<p>

_"How is this happening? Is this even real?"_ She's pinched her skin and tugged on her hair enough to know that this isn't a nightmare, that this whole thing - whatever it is - is just as real as she is, but she's still afraid. She's afraid that when she finally comes to term with everything that's happening, she will have to accept the truth.

_She could die._

She shakes the thought out of her head as soon as it surfaces. Sitting still will do her no good; it will give her time to think, and thinking would be her worst enemy right now. She's not sure how Riley and Cole can do it, sitting on their beds in silence. She feels like she's suffocating, even with the quiet scuffle of her shoes against the tile.

"Dahlia," Riley speaks up, much to the addressed's relief. "What do we do?" Her voice is weak and strained, and there are still traces of red in the whites of her eyes. It's taking all that she has to stay as composed as she is, and she herself knows that it will not take much to make her unravel. "We can't just stay here. We can't just wait for them to do what they want to do with us. W-we don't even know what they're talking about. What do they want from us?"

Dahlia's pacing stops, half because she knows it's making Riley more nervous and half because she's too overwhelmed by all the questions. "The Hunger Games," she mumbles, more out of an act of remembrance than an attempt to answer her question. Her eyebrows knit together towards the center. "The Hunger Games, she mentioned that a lot. What was she talking about? What are they?"

Riley shakes her head, wordlessly expressing her mutual confusion.

"One victor." Both girls look in the direction of Cole with surprise. His eyes are focused hard on something invisible, but the unyielding expression on his face lets them know how hard he's thinking. "But a victor for what…?"

He isn't talking to either of them, but both think about the question and answer anyway. "She said… She said that if there wasn't one victor at the end of the month, we'd all d-" Riley pauses and bites down on her lower lip, as though afraid of the word. "We'd all… end up like Professor Porter," she finalizes, swallowing thickly at the memory of their deceased teacher. "But… what are they gonna make us do?"

Neither Cole nor Dahlia answer, though for different reasons. From the frantic look in his eyes, they can tell that Cole is slowly piecing it together, if he hasn't already figured it out. As for Dahlia, she resumes to pacing, simply so that she doesn't have to think about it.

* * *

><p>Lorea is much more calm than her brother, who despite sitting down is fidgeting nervously. "Will you quiet down?" she hisses, as though his twiddling thumbs and shuffling feet were aimed to bother her personally. He manages an apologetic grin (a grin she wants to almost slap off his face, she thinks irately), and folds one hand over the other. She takes in a deep breath and steadily exhales, trying to release the stress bottled inside of her. <em>"Just think and stay calm. Freaking out and screaming won't do anyone any good."<em> She spares a glance at her twin, who looks distraught behind his forced smile. _"Won't do anyone any good,"_ she repeats inwardly as she takes a seat on her bed.

Lorea uses the silence to think, whereas Lewis is still just trying to calm his nerves. His sister has always had an incredible knack for remaining calm even in the most dire situations, and this is no different. This entire situation that they're in is still so beyond him, he's not even sure if it's real. He doesn't understand how Lorea can remain so calm, so patient in something so surreal. He's barely grasping that this is reality.

"Aren't you scared?" It's almost ironic, he thinks after he asks the question, because of how heavily his voice is shaking.

The corner of her lips twitch into an almost smirk. "What good is being scared going to do me?"

His brow twitches ever-so-slightly. Typical Lorea answer. "Being scared isn't something you choose to do. It just… It just happens, you know? It's how you feel, how you react." She shrugs, clearly unimpressed by his explanation, and he chuckles softly. "You've always been really strong when it comes to surprises, though. You just roll with the punches."

Her eyes soften, but only for a moment, because the large screen hanging above their metal door flickers. As soon as she sees the face of the man with the eyepatch, her gaze hardens and her fingers twist into the mattress. She recognizes him as one of the men standing beside Prime Minister Snow on the stage earlier. "Stupid tuxedo," she mumbles under her breath, eyeing the flashy striped suit he wears.

_"Tributes, I hope you have settled into your rooms by now. On behalf of the Prime Minister, I would like to apologize for the lack of furnishing; we were ill-prepared for your numbers." _There's some chuckling in the background, and he himself barely manages to suppress his smirk. _"We will be sure to refurbish your rooms while you are out tomorrow."_

The siblings exchange a look, both of them wanting to ask the same question: "Where are we going?"

_"Ah, I apologize - I haven't properly introduced myself yet. I am Banner, advisor to Prime Minister Snow. I will be in charge of of your presentation and sponsors before and during the course of the 76th Hunger Games. I am, I suppose, your publicity manager."_ He smiles amusedly, in a way that sends shivers down Lorea's spine. _"But I'm getting ahead of myself. Most, if not all, of you probably aren't even aware of what the Hunger Games are. Tonight will be a history lesson for all of you."_

* * *

><p>Skyloh's head jerks upwards from her hands upon hearing the two words. She looks around the room at the other three inhabitants from District 7, but they all wear the same look of confusion and awe. <em>"They don't know,"<em> she realizes as her heart pounds in her chest. _"They don't know what's happening to us."_

_"From the treaty of the treason: In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public 'Reaping.' These Tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol. And then transferred to a public arena where they will Fight to the Death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as the Hunger Games."_

She can practically hear Luke swallow from across the room, can see Keldon tense and Mykal's fear. Part of her is almost angry that they didn't know, that they had to figure out now, like this, under these circumstances. _"But it's not something they should know."_ Because everything about the Hunger Games was censored and thrown away, because the government hid it from them, because a part of history was erased from Unified Panem. The Hunger Games were never supposed to exist.

_"I'm sure you are all very aware of the passage I just read. For the most part, in any case."_ Banner actually snickers, a contrast to his well held demeanor. _"We of the Capitol are no fools - we know exactly what your society has tried to do. It's tried to cut out a very important part of history and, in the process, a civilization of people. You are all merely children, so your parents and ancestors are to blame for your ignorance."_

"Fight to the death," Mykal whispers, raising a shaking hand to her trembling mouth. "That's inhuman."

_"The Capitol aren't human,"_ Skyloh wants to say, but bites her tongue.

_"Don't consider this a punishment. Consider this a… a class. This will be a new history class, but interactive. I'm sure it'll be much different than what you're used to."_

* * *

><p><em>"One hundred years ago, one of your own rebelled against the Capitol. She escaped from the 75th Hunger Games and organized a revolt against our President Snow. She succeeded, and we were forced into submission."<em>

"The same way you oppressed all the districts for nearly a hundred years," Hawk snarls at the image. Banner's speech comes to a pause, and with the way he is peering at them, Hawk can't help but think he was heard. _"Bastard,"_ he thinks when the flickering screen smiles smugly.

Ruby nudges him softly with her elbow. "I bet they have cameras and stuff in here," she whispers. The duo look around the room, searching for any sign that they're being monitored, but find nothing other than metal. "Our teachers did say they were super advanced. We probably just can't see 'em."

Hawk makes a small sound of discontent as he slowly folds his arms across his chest, now very aware of his own actions and words.

_"You tried to make us assimilate, tried to force us to drop all that we knew. But finally you realized, just as we had decades before, that you simply cannot wipe out a race. A dog is a dog, no matter how you may dress it up. Therefore, we relocated to the island of Lemnos, where we could live the way we always had. But you - no, I'm sorry, your leaders - thought that was it. They thought we would go down in silence, that we were okay with simply disappearing. We are not."_

* * *

><p>Joel shakes his head silently, unsure of how to react. Beside him, Oralee grasps his hand; in her head she says it's for him, because he's a child and he's younger and he needs support, but both of them know that the trembling of their clenched hands is coming from her.<p>

_"We are not powerless, and we are not merely a myth that your parents told you horror stories about. The Capitol is real, it exists - and you children are living witnesses of our power. Sleep well, children of Unified Panem."_

The screen flickers, then black.

The strawberry blonde stifles a sob with both hands as the onslaught of tears begin again. Joel watches her with tired, careful eyes before slowly wrapping an arm around her shuddering shoulders. "I'm sorry," she apologizes, as though this is her fault. He wordlessly gives her shoulder a soft, reassuring squeeze, just allowing her to cry. Several minutes pass before her shoulders heave and her tears dry up. "I'm sorry," she repeats, this time with a small, heavy laugh. "This must be terrible for you, too, but I just…" She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand before offering a watery smile. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he says gently. He tries to return her smile, but it turns out like more of a grimace. He can't fake it like she can, can't act like everything is going to be okay when he's so unsure of what's happening to him.

"We can't just sit here." Joel looks over at Oralee, who speaks so quietly he's not sure if she's said anything at all. She's peering down into her lap, where her white hands sit motionlessly. "We have to do something." The hollowness in her voice betrays her words, but for once Joel doesn't want to play the realist. He doesn't want to say what they both know: that they can't do anything, that they're stuck, that no one can help them - not even themselves.

Despite the grim thoughts circulating through his head, he manages a tight-lipped smile, more for her than for himself. He just nods, unable to come up with any words of encouragement, and stands up from the bed they are both sitting on. "We should get some rest," he advises, laying down on his own mattress. "We can think about it some more tomorrow. Maybe we'll get to see the others."

"Yeah," she agrees as she peels back the blanket and slips under it. "I hope they're alright."

"I'm sure they're fine," he encourages, his mind drifting to the other underclassmen of 7-A. He tries not to imagine them crying or in pain, tries to clear his mind as he closes his eyes. "Let's just get some sleep."

After the lights turn off, neither sleep well.

* * *

><p>A shrill, bone-chilling alarm is what yanks Lila out of her three hour slumber. She thrashes around a bit, thinking she's back home (the alarm is very similar to the military bells her father liked to use), but tumbling to the cold ground reminds her of her captivity. She sits straight up, still tangled in the wool blanket, and blinks furiously to clear her vision. Allegra is sitting up in bed, eyes wide and at attention, whereas Catcher and Phoenix are still waking up.<p>

"'The hell," she grunts irritably, raising a hand to her throbbing head. The alarm goes off for another two minutes before finally shutting off, much to her relief. Just as soon as the painful sound stops, however, the television screen above their door flickers. "'Morning, asswipe," she growls at the grinning face of Banner.

He chuckles, as though he's heard a funny joke, before greeting them. _"Good morning, tributes. I hope you all slept well."_

"I would have slept better if my mattress didn't feel like a rock," Catcher mumbles as he rubs the back of his neck, which feels awfully stiff.

_"Today I will introduce each of the districts to your presentation team. Each district will receive it's own personal team, who will highlight your skills and positive qualities and, hopefully, downplay the negatives."_ He raises an eyebrow at the last statement and looks as though he wants to add something more, but shakes it off with a quiet laugh. _"They will discuss strategies with you and prepare you for the events leading up to the Games. As for the actual Hunger Games… Well, we'll deal with that when it comes to it."_

Allegra narrows her eyes at the flickering image of Banner. "They're gonna pretty us up and then make us kill each other," she states bluntly. "Classy."

"Fight to the death," Phoenix whispers, recalling the passage from last night. He's heard the passage hundreds of times in his life and read it even more than that, but it seemed too bizarre, too much like a myth or horror story. It never really bothered him because it just seemed so… unreal. Now that he's here, now that he is face-to-face with this nightmare, he feels something catch in his throat. "A fight to the death," he repeats, his face turning white.

"C'mon, man," Catcher says, trying to steady his voice. Seeing Phoenix so shaken up, Phoenix who is always laughing and joking around, looking so subdued just adds to his nervousness.

The blond can't even reply, he's so shaken up.

_"You will be given five minutes to collect yourselves before you meet your teams. You will go to breakfast with your preparation team, and you will be in their hands for the remainder of the day. While you are away, we will make your living arrangements a little more… pleasant."_ He tries to smile, but Banner isn't capable of anything other than a smirk. _"Have a fair day, tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor."_

* * *

><p>A mix of confusion and awe is written across Altair's face. He is sitting at a beautifully furnished round table, along with Lana and River. Beside and across from them are three extravagant individuals, dressed in bright patterns and gaudy jewelry. He's seen pictures of people from the Capitol in history books, but seeing them with his own eyes is an experience in and of itself. He's stuck between being amazed and disgusted.<p>

"Back in the day, tributes from District 4 were typically part of the Career group," gushes the woman with the bubblegum pink hair and rainbow eye shadow. "You three are very lucky - the sponsors will adore you."

River blinks. "Uh, they'll adore us because we fish?"

The younger female with fake spiderwebs in her green hair guffaws, as though the fourteen-year-old had said the funniest thing in the world. "Don't be silly, Dollface," she giggles, oblivious to the quirked brow she receives. "They'll adore you because of your history. Everyone loves a legacy." Altair, River, and Lana all exchange a look, which doesn't go unnoticed by their preparation team. "We're a very different civilization. Believe me, they'll eat you up."

"Great," Lana manages, still over whelmed. "But…" All eyes shift to her, and for as long as he's known her, Altair has never seen her wear such an unsure and insecure expression. "I just don't understand." Her voice drops several levels. "I don't understand why this is happening to us. I don't understand how you can sit across from us and tell us how you're gonna dress us up for the slaughter. I don't understand how you talk about kids dying and killing each other like it's a spectator sport, like it's totally natural." She's almost yelling now, and tributes and preparation teams from the other tables are turning to look at them. Her own team looks shell-shocked, unsure of how to answer her.

"Lana," Altair whispers, reaching under the table to grasp her hand. Her sharp, narrowed eyes catch his as he gives her fingers a slight squeeze.

She can't calm herself, however; she can't convince herself that this okay and go along with it as though it were normal. She does manage to quell the shaking of her shoulders by clenching her fists, and despite the boiling anger she has enough control to keep her mouth shut. Screaming won't do any of them any good, no matter how much better it will make her feel.

"U-um, right." The preparation team all exchange a glance, trying to proceed carefully as to not evoke another outburst. Banner had warned them about this, that it was likely that some of the tributes would react like this. "So, later this afternoon we'll be taking the three of you to the dressing rooms, to see what looks best on all of you," explains the man with orange and red-streaked hair. "We're looking for something that ties all of you together, but also works on your individual qualities."

"I have another question," River announces. "Why are you dressing us up? You're just throwing us into an arena and seeing what happens, right? Who cares what we look like?"

Altair and Lana try not to look too concerned with the nonchalance with which she speaks about the Hunger Games, but any of their uncertainty is overwhelmed by the excitement of the other three. "Looks and image are just as important as skills in the arena, sweetie," squeals Spider-Hair. "That's how you'll get sponsors! And, honestly, sponsors can determine life or death. Your presentation before the Games could even be more important than what you actually do on the field."

"I don't get the whole sponsor thing," she replies bluntly. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, honey, I keep forgetting this is new to you," she laughs. "Though, I hear the sponsor system is going to be a bit different this time around… Mint told me she heard Banner and the Gamemaker talking the other day…"

"You're drifting off topic, Pomeline," the man sighs, flicking his wrist at her dismissively. "Sponsors are, in short, the people who you please in the Capitol. If they decide they like you, they'll send you gifts in the arena. The gifts can range from anything like food and water to weapons like axes. Years and years ago, there was one victor who was given a trident; he was very popular with the crowds." He pauses, a contemplative look on his face. "Now that I'm thinking about it… He was from District 4."

Altair's brow crinkles in thought. "So… People will send us gifts… depending on how much they like us." The trio give a collective nod. "Which depends on how we look."

"Among other things, of course," Bubblegum Hair intervenes. "As I said before, they'll also be prone to liking you because of your district's history in the games. It also depends on your personality, how you present yourselves to them in the interviews…"

"Interviews?" Lana cuts in, speaking up so suddenly that it actually startles the three. "What interviews?"

"Where you present yourself to the people of the Capitol," Pomeline describes carefully. "You'll introduce yourself to the crowd, to the speaker, to the watchers…"

"Watchers?"

"Oh, yes, dear. It's going to be on live television."

Lana's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. "Live television! What do you- What are you-!" She sputters, unable to grasp this new information. "Since when did this nightmare have anything to do with TV?"

Once again, the preparation team look too taken back and terrified to reply. "It, uh…" Pomeline swallows thickly, clearly very intimidated by the blonde. "Ostro?" she squeaks, looking to the male of the team for help.

"The Hunger Games have everything to do with TV," he says, as softly as possible. "It's like… It's like a reality show, really. Everything you do - save for the training, which is mostly private - is shown on TV to people of the Capitol. Well, I suppose those back in Panem will see it as well, but they don't really get a chance to sponsor like they did in the past…"

Lana's eyes widen slightly, but for once there isn't a hint of animosity on her face. "The people in Panem are going to see this?" she asks, but it's so quiet it's almost as though she's talking to herself. Ostro nods affirmatively. "So then my parents are going to see this… They'll see me."

"Lana?" Altair whispers, drawing her out of her thoughts. She presses her lips together, her eyes still downcast, but finally she nods and raises her head. There is something in her eyes that wasn't there before, but Altair can't quite place what it is.

Pomeline smiles nervously. "Well, now that you've got a gist of how it's all going to work, why don't we go over our strategy?"

* * *

><p>Terra has never been one to object to being treated like a princess, but something doesn't feel right with how <em>comfortable<em> she is in this situation. "You've got the traditional 'dark beauty' thing goin' on," compliments Eunia as she brushes a fresh coat of lip gloss onto her puckered smile. "The Capitol will love it. You're a shoe-in for victor."

The corner of her lips quirk upwards, but she can't quite bring it in herself to grin. Victor sounds like such a great thing, something to be sought after and emulated. _"But you'll be the victor of thirty-one dead kids. Kids you knew and grew up with. Kids you went to class with. Kids you're friends with."_ A shiver runs down her spine.

"Are you cold, Terra?" her stylist asks in concern, pulling away from her face. "You're shivering."

"N-no, I'm fine," she replies as steadily as she can. "I'm just… I guess I'm just getting a little nervous, is all." Eunia nods understandingly before returning to her primping. "How are you doing over there, Jorden?" she asks, trying to distract herself.

"Not looking as great as you, that's for sure," he chuckles, playing with a chunk of hair that his own stylist had dyed bleach blonde. "I don't think I quite have your natural beauty." She giggles when he begins to wipe off the green eyeliner meant to accentuate his chocolate-colored eyes. "Not that I don't enjoy a little make-up every once and a while, but… Five hours is definitely enough for me."

Eunia steps aside to admire her handiwork, then bobs her head, pleased. "Yes, this is definitely good. I mean, it's not completely what I'm looking for, but we can work on that some more during the week. Take a break, Terra." She wipes her hands and walks off, mumbling about getting a drink with some friends.

Terra spins around in the chair, and the person she sees in the mirror forces a small gasp from her lips. The gold brings out her eyes, the light dusting of color complements her complexion, and her hair has been tamed into a waterfall of curls. The painting of beauty is almost marred by the red lining of her eyes. "Hey, we should visit the others," Jorden suggests softly as he tenderly wraps an arm around her shoulders. "We haven't seen them all day."

Her smile is watery and lacking its usual brightness, but she wears it as brilliantly as she can anyway. "Yeah. I hope Mattheo and Riley are alright."

* * *

><p>The common room is packed with the students of 7-A, finally unaccompanied by their preparation teams. Most of the underclassmen are huddled in the corner, tired out from the day, while the others are catching up and seeking comfort. The day is nearly over now, with only dinner to go before they must return to their rooms.<p>

"This shit sucks," Zook grunts as he wipes at his face with a towel. "They're dressing us up like freakin' dolls, putting make up on us… Neon orange eyeliner doesn't look good on _anyone_." He throws the towel against the ground, emphasizing his discomfort and anger. "This is getting old. When the hell are they actually gonna start giving us answers? When the hell are they going to let us go? They're talking to us like it's normal, like we're just supposed to go along with it. But this just isn't _okay_."

"Look, I'm pissed off, too, but being pissed off isn't gonna help any of us," Dahlia cuts in, tugging at the unnatural ringlets in her hair. "We just…" She lowers her voice, aware that they are most likely being monitored. "We need to figure out what to do." She presses her lips together, afraid to elaborate and say anymore, but she looks both him and Lana in the eyes to portray her thoughts. They both nod in silent agreement, able to understand her soundless words.

"Hey guys," Rea greets, interrupting shyly.

"Hey Rea," Lana responds, waving. "How're Oliver and Drizzle doing?"

"Alright. They didn't take to the makeovers as well as I thought they would." They all chuckle, though it's humorless. "Have you seen Korra? I've been looking around for a while, but…"

Zook points over to a corner. "I thought I saw her hanging around some of the kids earlier, but she might've just gone back to her room. … If we're allowed to do that, anyway. You know, she's probably around here somewhere."

She sighs as she combs her fingers through her hair. "I just hope she's doing alright… I mean, she's the only one from District 9. At least the rest of us had someone to be with us all day, you know?" Her lips twist into a small frown and she fiddles with her fingers.

"Hey, she's a strong one," Zook says reassuringly, his trademark grin returning. "Besides, she's always been good on her own, right?"

Rea smiles and nods slowly, even if she's not totally reassured. "Well, I was talking with Kate and Nyle earlier, and we thought maybe all of us should get together for dinner. Sit at the same table and talk, you know? I mean, I know we're a class and we've been together for half a year, but it's not like we're super close. Considering where we are and what we're doing, maybe it would do us some good to just… be together."

"That'd be great," he agrees, and Dahlia and Lana smile in acquiescence. "I think, more than ever, we need to stand together."

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Stripped" - Shiny Toy Guns<p>

* * *

><p>Starting chapter is the worst, which is why it took so long for me to finally get this out. You guys always make me feel great, but I feel terrible when it takes me so long to post, haha. For a general idea of how things are going to, there will be no parade, but there will be interviews (obviously), some glimpses of training and scores, and then finally the games.<p>

Thank you for putting up with me, you fabulous readers!

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	6. saint or sinner, pt 1

Author's Note:

Summer is going by too quickly. D: Though I do have over two months until mine ends, but… Guh. I just need to get off my butt and work but I'm so lazy and I just wanna write and sleep and play video games all day. Life is hard.

Ah ha ha, anyway - I'll be putting up a poll later, where you can vote for your favorite tribute as displayed in the interviews. The winner (or winners) will receive an advantage in the Games. Also, I've split up the interviews into two chapters; there will be a winner for this chapter and for the next, so make sure to vote both times! In any event - have fun reading a fairly long chapter, and thank you for all your support!

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Five  
>Saint or Sinner, pt. 1<p>

Opening Song: "The Ruler and the Killer" - Kid Cudi

* * *

><p>The little girl tugs on her mother's long skirt with fervor as she points one chubby finger at the TV. "Momma, Momma!" she cries, begging for her attention. "It's on, it's on!" Mother and father scrape their chairs against the ground, pushing themselves away from the dining room table in order to rush to the large screen in their living room. The woman, already on the verge of tears, kneels on the ground and turns up the volume until the loud music fills in the house's silence.<p>

"Jorden," she half whispers, half sobs as she reaches out to touch the dressed up young man. She wants to brush back his chocolate-colored hair and feel that is alive and real, but her fingers meet only static and glass. Her lower lip trembles and a tear courses down her cheek.

* * *

><p><em> "Good day, faithful citizens of the Capitol and ardent viewers of Unified Panem!" The fairy-like woman on stage waves at the cameras excitedly, and the crowd roars in delight at her energy. "For those of you who don't already know me - shame on you - my name is Merope Duncaine, and I will be your host for the 76th Hunger Games!" The cheers escalate, until she claps her blue-tinted hands over her ears and wordlessly asks the audience to quiet down. "Now, I know you all are just as excited as I am, but try to contain yourself a little bit longer, hmmm? We haven't even introduced you to our first tribute, yet!" They laugh and chuckle at her teasing. "And on that note, why don't we get started?"<em>

_ She glides over to one of the large red arm chairs in the center of the stage, and beckons over to someone hidden in the shadows. "Hailing from District 1, looking just as luxurious as his district's namesake - Jorden Biber!"_

_ Small, quiet claps accompany the brunet as he walks onto the stage, waving charismatically at the crowd. Whispers of approval follow soon after, once they observe the finely made purple suit he wears. "Good evening, Ms. Duncaine," he greets when he takes the seat beside her. "How are you doing today? For added effect, he presses his lips against the skin of her hand when she extends it to him._

_ Merope squeals, clasping both hands over her heart. "What a gentleman! And to think, all of us thought you folk in old Panem were such stiffs."_

_ A grin stretches across his face. "And here we were taught that you guys were over-dressed and shrill. Quite honestly, though, Ms. Duncaine, you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen." Her cheeks, already painted red with makeup, brighten further as she giggles at the compliment. "Though, you probably shouldn't tell my girlfriend." He raises a hand to cover one side of his mouth, as though he's telling her a secret. "She gets jealous easily."_

_ She makes an "o" with her red-painted lips. "A girlfriend! Why, you little heartbreaker!"_

_ Jorden chuckles impishly as a couple people in the crowd boo an "aww" in disappointment. "'Can't say I'm sorry - I love her." Everyone eats up his declaration of love, cooing and swooning - including Merope. "We've been together for almost three years now… I miss her like crazy." His smile is wry, different from the flashy grins he has shown off to the audience. "And my family, of course. My sister's probably enjoying my absence, though; she's been fighting for my room since she learned how to talk."_

_ "You have a lot on the line, then," she concludes, and he nods affirmatively. "You know, my sources tell me you're a very popular boy, Jorden. I bet a lot of people will be betting on you, both here and at home."_

_ "I think your sources are exaggerating a bit," he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. "Yeah, I have some friends, but… I don't know. I hope they'll be supporting me. I feel like I'll need all the help I can get."_

_ Merope nods and leans forward, taking both of his hands into hers. "Well, I wish you the very best of luck, Jorden. If all things go according to plan, maybe we'll be seeing your handsome face up on this stage in a month, eh?" She winks as the crowd cheers loudly for him, already enraptured by the boy from District 1. "Thank you so much. Now, let's bring on our female tribute from Luxury: Terra Rush!"_

* * *

><p>Two large boys are huddled over the flat screen TV, eyes glued to the moving images. Both are stiff, with hands clenched by their sides and teeth gritted. Their mother sits behind them on the living room couch, a far away look in her eyes; she can't even bring it in herself to look at the young woman gliding across the screen.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Oh me, oh my! I think I just might have some competition, folks!" Merope gushes as she stands up to greet the dark-haired beauty. "Miss Terra Rush - how are you liking your stay here in the Capitol? Hmm, though I suppose, more accurately, it should be called the Island of Lemnos."<em>

_ Terra hesitates a little, but the nervousness on her face quickly dissipates. In its place stands a white grin. "Well, it's not quite home, but maybe it's because I'm fighting for the TV with just one boy rather than two." _

_ Both the audience and Merope laugh. "That's right, I hear your rooms are furnished beautifully. Not that we can compete with the extravagance that is District 1, of course. Speaking of extravagant - that is a beautiful number you have on."_

_ "Why, thank you!" Terra voluntarily stands up and spins around, so that the shimmery pink fabric fans out around her ankles. "Eunia and her team did a fabulous job, didn't they? Thanks, Eunia!" She waves excitedly to a small portion of the crowd; her giddiness rubs off on the audience, who laugh and clap. "You guys definitely know how to make a girl feel like a princess," she comments when she sits back down._

_ "Says the girl who looks like she popped right out of a fairytale!" Terra blushes and shakes her head dramatically, while Merope grins. "So, beauty queen, do you have anything you want to say to your enemies?"_

_ She wears a contemplative expression, and her seriousness strikes the audience so that they are silent. Suddenly, as if donning a mask, she grins and holds both her face in both hands. "Please don't hurt me too bad," she pleads, jutting out her glossed lower lip in a pout. Merope can barely stifle her giggles as the audience breaks out into laughter, clearly enjoying her act. "Don't worry, guys, I got this!" she cheers, jumping to her feet so that she can wave both hands at her new fans. "This princess can fend for herself." Few people notice her eyes darkening momentarily. "So don't count me out yet!" She grins, even adding a small twirl._

_ "Woah woah, prima ballerina," Merope laughs, standing up to shake her hand one last time. "Thank you for interviewing with me, and good luck with the rest of the process and, of course, the actual Games." Terra actually embraces the TV personality, earning a couple claps and cheers, before blowing kisses at the appreciative crowd and walking off. "My, what an array of tributes we have this year - and we've only met two! Now, moving on to District 2: Ms. Riley Maryn!"_

* * *

><p>The clothes and the jewels and the make up - none of it matters anymore. Margret sits in the middle of her daughter's King-sized bed, clutching a blonde-haired doll, crying for her only child to come home. Steven looks back into the room, where his wife is whispering apologies to the doll, before focusing his attention on the small TV they have in their kitchen. His hand shakily grasps the coffee mug when he watches his baby walk onto the stage.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Riley is dressed in a flirty gold cocktail dress, with her honey blonde hair pinned up in an elegant fashion. "Hello, hello!' she shouts to the audience, who receive her welcomingly.<em>

_ "Such cheery and outgoing tributes we have, this year," Merope raves as she moves in to greet the latest tribute. She gasps in surprise when Riley hugs her tightly, much more so than Terra had, but returns it enthusiastically. "And such kind ones, as well! Oh my dear, take a seat, take a seat." Riley sits down beside her and smooths out her dress before crossing her legs. "You are such a ray of sunshine - your family must miss you so much."_

_ Not four minutes into the interview, and already the radiant female is frowning. Merope senses the almost immediate shift in attitude, and regret can be seen on her face. "Actually, I don't really know, to be honest," she answers, smiling tightly. "My parents and I… Well, let's just say I don't see them around very often."_

_ "Oh," is all Merope can say, and the silence of the audience implies that they too are at a loss._

_ When she laughs, they can see that the mirth has returned to her eyes. "What's with all the glum faces? You all look like you've been kicked! Just because I don't have parents cheering me on or siblings to pray for me, don't think I don't have a chance. I guarantee you, I've got more than enough incentive to keep fighting."_

_ Merope is in awe as claps sound around them. "What a brave young lady we've got on stage, m'dears. Certainly, we'll all be watching for you. Now, I know we're not really allowed to know the details, but please - we're all __**dying**__ to now - how well do you think you'll do in the Games? I hear you didn't even know what they were until just a week ago."_

_ Riley bobs her head in affirmation. "And you're absolutely right. None of us, and if any of us did it was a small number, knew what the Hunger Games were. We were never taught about it or anything; it was like it never existed."_

_ "My, you sound a little angry."_

_ Her laugh is humorless. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. They were ignoring an important part of history, and… Well, look at where we are now, Merope." Silence falls over the studio once more as Riley glares hard into the camera, as though searching for the perpetrators. "But I won't lose. My ignorance might have worked against me up until now, but I promise I'll give you one hell of a show." The applause is deafening, and the confident smirk she shoots adds fuel to their fire._

_ "Ladies and gentlemen: Riley Maryn!" Merope gives the departing tribute a standing ovation and wipes a (probably fake) tear from her eye. "Oh my, so many theatrics and we're barely in. Woo, I am getting so excited!" The Capitol citizens holler in agreement. "Now, accompanying Ms. Maryn from District 2 is the lovely Dahlia Dunbryll."_

* * *

><p>"Pop!" Gerrard instantly drops his materials when he hears his youngest calling for him. When he walks into den, his sons are crowded around a small TV, eyes glued to the screen. He has to swallow the fear that has risen to his throat before he sits beside them. His jaw sets when he sees his only daughter standing on the stage, her arms folded across her chest. Klaus looks both frightened and relieved when he murmurs, "It's Dolly."<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Well, don't you look like a doll!" Merope compliments when Dahlia joins her.<em>

_ The platinum blonde groans loudly, earning a couple laughs. "Oh God, not you, too. First my family, my friends, now you - next thing I know, I'll be walking down the street and some stranger will be calling me that."_

_ "Can you blame 'em? You look like you popped right out of the box!"_

_ Dahlia looks down at the long royal blue dress she's wearing, before pulling up the slightly exposing sweetheart neckline; even those in the back row notice her discomfort in her garb. "I'm gonna go ahead and blame my prep team for that. Thanks, Whytt." She shoots a half meaningful glare into the audience, who chuckle at her honesty._

_ "Pish posh - you look beautiful, Dahlia. And as Terra said earlier, every girl loves to be treated like a princess, yes?"_

_ Her snort startles the interviewer. "I grew up in a family of weaponsmiths. Their idea of treating a girl like a princess is letting her smelt her own sword." A row of chuckles sound, coming from both the viewers and Merope._

_ "Oh, you can't fool me, Cinderella! I can hear the adoration in your voice," she teases, lightly poking her in the thigh. "C'mon now, tell us more about these weaponsmiths. How many of them do you live with?"_

_ "Three," she answers, wearing a congenial smile. "My dad and my two brat brothers; one's older than me and the other's younger. It's been just the four of us since as long as I can remember." The crowd coos, drawn in by the family dynamic. "All of them can be a pain the ass, but… They're family. And I know they'd all be screaming at me if they knew I was just sitting around, waiting for something good to happen."_

_ "It sounds like family is going to be your driving factor in these Games, hm?" Merope questions, to which the answer is a simple nod (accompanied by a smile). "You certainly don't seem like the quiet type, though. Surely you must have some friends or, oh could it be, a boyfriend? A lover who's waiting for you to come home?"_

_ Dahlia's guffaw is definitely genuine, along with the slap she delivers to her knee. Merope sits back, a little taken back, but she certainly looks amused. "Yeah, boyfriend, as if," she laughs, wiping a tear away from her eye. "Sorry, but you don't have a romance story here."_

_ "But I hear you have some very close friends in your class." Dahlia physically freezes. "Having to fight against your own friends… That's a bit romantic in its own way, isn't it?" Merope smiles sorrowfully._

_ For once, the blonde looks unsure. She fiddles with her fingers, clenching and unclenching them in the dark fabric of her dress, and her eyes dart around the studio. "My friends have helped me through a lot," she says finally, softly. "They're the greatest. I can… I know it's stupid, but… It'd be great if we could all make it out, you know?"_

_ "Of course. Friendship is not something that can be so easily severed," Merope answers sympathetically. "But, as you and I both know, folks, there can only be one victor. I wish you the best of luck, Dahlia." Dahlia leaves the stage, still a bit stunned, but manages a final wave to the crowd before she disappears. "Well, ladies and gents, I think it's about time we got some testosterone up here, don't you? Let's pull on our final tribute from District 2: Cole Nature!"_

* * *

><p>It's quiet in the Nature household, the way it usually is - the way it has been for almost a decade. It is nearly vacant, save for one boy who is seated in the middle of the living room with a small TV in front of him. As the fourteen-year-old watches the brooding male stalk onto the stage, he grasps a yellowing picture. It features a younger version of himself and the man on stage, along with a healthy version of their mother. He looks down at it, smoothes a thumb over the crinkles, then shifts his attention back to the program.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Tall, dark, and handsome is definitely working in Cole's favor. Despite his lack of loquaciousness and fervor that the past tributes displayed, the crowd adores him. "Woah-wee, you haven't even said anything, and they're already in love with you," Merope states with a laugh. "I have to agree with them, though; you definitely look like a winner. Are you sure you haven't been training for the Hunger Games?"<em>

_ He rolls his eyes, unimpressed by the praise. "I go to the gym a lot," he says plainly, plucking a piece of invisible dust off his dark slacks._

_ Merope blinks her long lashes at him, expecting him to elaborate but, sure enough, he doesn't. "Well, I can definitely tell," she continues, unperturbed my his meager choice of words. "Which means you must have the advantage going in, hmm?"_

_ He shrugs._

_ "District 2 is known for having produced many victors in the past," she explains, more to the audience than to him. "Tributes from District, along with 1 and 4, were typically known as Careers, and traveled in a pack. The strongest hailed from these districts, and it looks like Cole is no exception. Do you already have a strategy for the Games?"_

_ His green eyes harden, momentarily shocking her. "Don't lose." There is strong resolve behind his simple words, and it strikes the audience with awe._

_ "Such confidence!" Merope squeals. "I'm getting chills! Thank you so much, Cole, and good luck." He brushes her off, in no need of her luck, but she grins amiably anyway. His cool confidence, lacking in any warmth, captivates the audience, who shout after him even when his figure disappears behind a wall. "Things are really heating up now, aren't they, darlings? Well, I certainly won't keep you waiting, so let's bring on our next tribute! Hailing from District 3 is Oliver Winters! C'mon out, Oliver!"_

* * *

><p>Tears won't help anyone, least of all the skittish young boy slowly making his way across the TV screen. Still, Kimberly can barely maintain control of her emotions when she finally sees her son, who's been missing for over a week. The young girl next to her holds her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "He'll be alright, Mrs. Winters," she says, steadying her weak voice. "He'll be fine, right?"<p>

The watery-eyed mother tries to return her son's friend's smile, but all she can manage is a despairing simper.

* * *

><p><em>"You look nervous," Merope observes when Oliver sits beside her, hands clenched fearfully in his lap. "The lights and all the people must be really intimidating for someone your age. You are the youngest one to join us so far, but I hear there are a couple of younger ones in your class. Are you close with them?"<em>

_ Oliver's blue gaze is still darting around the studio unconfidently. "N-not really," he manages quietly, tugging at the collar of his forest green dress shirt. "I, um… I don't really… I'm not…" His breathing is clammy and uneven, adding to his already anxious image. The crowd has long since simmered down, unsure of how to receive this awkward young man. "I usually prefer to read," he explains finally, "so I don't really talk to anyone."_

_ She nods her head understandingly, trying to smile congenially so that he's not so jittery. "Ah, so we've got a bit of a loner and a bookworm. Those intellectual types always get me - and so young, too! How do you think you'll fare in the games, then? Surely you've read about what's gone on in these Games, and brains can only take you so far."_

_ He shakes his head while tugging at his cuffs. "No. As Riley said earlier, we knew nothing about the Hunger Games. The first I actually heard of them was when…" A bout of nervousness takes over him again, and he takes a couple moments to swallow and compose himself. "… was when we first came here. I've gotten the chance to read a couple things, though."_

_ Merope's perfectly trimmed eyebrows raise in curiosity. "Oh? And what have you learned?"_

_ "That they're just as much about strategy and brains as they are about brawn - if not mores."_

_ "So what you're telling us is not to count you out now," Merope says solemnly, and stands up with him to bid him goodbye. "We will definitely be watching for you, Oliver, and I wish you the very best of luck." His hands are still shaking when he takes hers, and he quickly scuttles off, relieved to be out of the limelight. The audience claps, though it's more out of respect than awe. "And now we've got another young'un joining us. Come on out, Drizzle Ainsworth!"_

* * *

><p>It's difficult to continue living when all that you have in the world is taken away from you. Caroline Ainsworth knows that she can't just sit idly crying, though, not when her only reason for living is struggling so hard. "You can do it, honey," she whispers to the small TV that's been set up in the factory entirely for her benefit. Her co-workers watch her with pity and sympathy, but no one can bring it in themselves to say anything; the scratchiness of her voice and the sunken look of her eyes say enough to keep them at bay. "You'll be alright, baby."<p>

* * *

><p><em>The girl who walks on is just as awkward as the previous boy, if not more so. To try and get her to settle in, Merope strides across the stage to meet her halfway, and takes her hands in a friendly gesture. "Welcome, welcome, Ms. Ainsworth," she coos, ushering her to the plush seat. "And what a fabulous number you've got on there."<em>

_ She flushes a brilliant shade of red, but mutters a quiet thank you as she smoothes at the silver/gray material of her knee-length dress. When she sits down, she focuses her eyes on the shiny tile floor, which is much less intimidating than the crowd of garish people. She inhales slowly through her nose before finally raising her gaze to Merope, who is watching her with a concerned but soothing expression. "T-thank you. The preparation team worked really hard," she replies shakily._

_ "They certainly did. The purple in your hair is beautiful, by the way." Drizzle subconsciously raises her hands to the darkened purple streaks in her hair, trying to flash a smile. "So, Drizzle, why don't you tell us a little about yourself? You seem like a very nice, reserved young lady. What's it like back home in District 3?"_

_ "I live with my mom," she answers quietly. "She's the only one I have."_

_ "Any friends or anything?"_

_ "People don't really… like me." Merope despairs, holding a hand over her heart; someone in the audience sniffs. "But it's okay," she speaks up, strength behind her words. "Because I have my mom, and she's the only one who matters. She works so hard… I don't want her to suffer anymore."_

_ "Amazing, Drizzle." The interviewer wipes a tear from her eyes, then leans forward to take Drizzle's hands once again. "Now, is there anything you want to say to those who might doubt you because or your age or size, or anything?"_

_ She presses her glossed lips together, contemplating. "Yes." She waits a moment, though it's more for her to think than to raise suspense. "I have to go back home," she says finally. "I can't lose."_

_ "Your mother will be delighted to hear you say that, I'm sure," says Merope as she gives her hands a light tap. "Thank you so much, and good luck, Drizzle." The crowd claps in her honor as she strides across the stage, her head higher than it had been when she first walked on. "Such an inspiration, right, folks? Well now, let's wrap things up with District 3: please welcome Rea!"_

* * *

><p>It's almost like a large family gathering, the way everyone is seated around a table with food, in front of a large screen TV. The atmosphere is far from cheery, however, and nothing on the plates has been touched. "There's Rea!" Kino points his chubby finger at the screen when he sees his sister greet the strange woman. The three-year-old bears excitement on his face, a contrast to the grimness around him. "Mommy, Daddy, look!" His mother, trying to smile for her child, nods and lightly pats him on the head. "Woah, Rea's on TV…"<p>

"Yeah, sure is something, isn't it?" Zax murmurs, then glances over at Diala, who is hugging her knees to her chest. He turns his eyes back to the screen, both entranced and mortified by the image of his best friend.

* * *

><p><em>The crowd is very tame, as the last couple of tributes have lost the excitement and vivacity of the first ones. When Rea walks in, dressed in a flattering layered green dress, waving at the crowd, they nearly break out into screams. "Pop-pop-pop-popular, aren't we?" Merope giggles when she shakes Rea's manicured hand. "So you are the oldest representative from District 3; no pressure there, right?"<em>

_ Rea laughs nervously as she rubs the back of her neck. "Geez, now you're making me nervous." The audience solicits a small giggle. "But, um… I guess it does instill a sort of responsibility, having two younger kids from the same District. They both keep to themselves, so I don't know them too well, but I've got a younger brother, you know, and sometimes big sister mode just kicks in."_

_ "Do you think that will play a part in how you do in the Games?"_

_ She opens her mouth to answer, but pauses. After a moment, she says, "It might."_

_ Merope cocks her head to the side curiously. "What do you mean?"_

_ "It means…" She hesitates, looking so naturally shy, and bites her lower lip. "It means that I have a lot waiting for me back home. I can't… allow myself to just drop everything here. I'll be leaving behind so many people. My brother, my parents, my friends…" Her eyes, which look far away, drift upwards as she falls into silence._

_ "Oooo, I recognize that look!" Merope accuses, pointing a finger at the girl. "That's the look of love!" Rea flushes a brilliant shade of pink, but no matter how much she shakes her head, she's caught. "Oh come on, you can't leave us all hanging now - what's his name? Is he from your district? How long have you known him for? Oh please, oh please, Rea, you just have to tell us! Who's the lucky guy?"_

_ Merope is literally sitting on the edge of her seat, and the cheers from around probably aren't helping Rea's embarrassment either. "No no no, we're just friends… The two of us, we're just… We're just friends." She can't bring herself to look at the camera, as though afraid she'll make eye contact with it (or someone on the other side)._

_ "So he's a friend! You're in love with your friend - oh darling, that is just the sweetest." Her words are iincere, and Rea swears there are stars in her eyes. "He must miss you so much… Oh no, you haven't confessed to him yet! He'll be cheering for you, though, and what a way to return home, huh?"_

_ Her cheeks are still painted pink, but she manages a nod and a small smile anyway. "Hopefully."_

_ "I wish you luck, and hope you'll be able to woo Prince Charming, whoever he may be," Merope bids genuinely, standing up to embrace the final tribute from District 3. "Thank you, and good tidings, Rea." She waves after the female, until she walks behind the wall, out of sight. "Oh my, romances always get to me," she sighs dreamily, fanning herself with her hand. "I do wish it wasn't such a mystery… Though I suppose that's what makes it so alluring." She giggles and the audience laughs in agreement. "Alright, alright, enough of that. Let's move on to a crowd favorite: District 4, Fishing! Come join us, River Matthias!"_

* * *

><p>Proximity of family members doesn't always result personal strong bonds. Father is off in the docks working with the older brother, while Mom is at home in the kitchen. Regardless, there is a crease between her eyes as she chops the vegetables and the radio plays in the background. <em>"… River Matthias!"<em> Her fingers freeze, with the knife hovering over an onion. _"Well, isn't she just precious? I don't think I could ever pull off that look!"_ Mom bites the insides of her cheeks, then continues cooking.

At the dock, crowded around a television set up by the shift managers, Father and Son exchange a look. Behind them lay their nets and rods, work for once forgotten in lieu of the little girl on the platform.

* * *

><p><em>River struts up to her seat with the confidence that few fourteen-year-olds can claim to have. Her dress is blue and silver, with the fabric styled in a way that it resembles both water and fish scales. Her heels, though small, are just as eye-catching as the dress, and her wavy hair falls over her shoulders in a graceful waterfall. Her grin stretches from ear to ear, accentuating the brightness of her green optics.<em>

_ "Before we start, can I just say: you are possibly the most adorable thing I have ever seen." The audience screams, declaring their agreement with Merope. "So you hail from the fishing district, hm?"_

_ "What, the dress doesn't give it away?" River chortles, earning a couple laughs. "I mean, yeah, I like fish, but dressing me up like one? No thanks."_

_ "But you look beautiful," Merope insists._

_ She snorts. "Yeah, I bet you're paid to say that." Merope tries her best to look offended, but it's playful, and even River has to laugh. "But honestly, yeah, I've got a lot of District 4 pride. We're not-so-secretly the best." She winks and throws a thumb's up at the crowd, who shout and clap in response. "My parents are hard workers, too, so my family's always been pretty well off… Which may or may not be the reason for my answer."_

_ "With riches do come a better lifestyle," the host agrees._

_ "Mmm, yeah, but we're not that close," she says, with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm thankful for what they gave me, but it's not like we're the family who sits at a table for every meal, talking about what we did all day. Honestly, I feel more at home when I'm at school; back in District 4, our house is… I don't know. Just a house, I guess."_

_ "You're so frank, so candid," Merope points out, though not in a way that is demeaning or harsh. "It wasn't hard growing up in that kind of environment?"_

_ River's eyes aren't watering from the memory of a childhood that never was. Instead, she just grins. "Well, you just gotta make do with what you have. I just found stuff that entertained me, made friends with people who really liked me and made me feel like I was part of a family. I was really, uh, what would Drizzle say… Resourceful? Yeah."_

_ "We've got a little warrior in this one! Definitely, then, that resourcefulness will be helping you in the Games."_

_ "Definitely," she answers confidently._

_ "Let's give a hand to the fabulous River Matthias, everyone! Thank you so much for sharing with us, River, and good luck with everything to come." River shakes Merope's hand with fervor before literally skipping off the stage, a spring in her step. The TV host giggles, amused, while the audience's cheers fill up the studio. "Oh, and it looks like we've got another hot personality from District 4, folks. Say hello to Altair Osriel!"_

* * *

><p>Three little girls run around the Osriel household screaming, trying to get everyone's attention. "Altair's on!" announces the youngest, Linnea, who jumps up and down on the living room couch in excitement. "He's on, he's on, he's on!" Cairoh, his mother, and his father rush into the room, where chaos has all but broken out. "Look!" she shrieks, pointing at the auburn-haired boy on screen. "Oooh, he looks so handsome."<p>

"Shut up!" Cella hisses, slapping the back of her younger sister's calve.

"Linnea, Cella, please," Yule sighs as he takes a seat on the couch beside them. He motions for his wife to sit next to him, and she does so gingerly. In an act of protection and reassurance (both for himself and her), he wraps an arm around her fragile shoulders. Her eyes are focused entirely on the screen, however; it's like all she can see is the TV.

* * *

><p><em> Friendly and cheerful, but a little reserved and more laid-back: that's the image Altair is going for. He walks across the stage with one hand tucked into the pocket of his white slacks, the other in the air, waving at the accepting audience. "Miss Merope," he greets, getting down on one knee before pressing a kiss against her offered hand. She squeals excitedly, jumping around on her feet, as he stands up with a boyish grin. "Thanks for having me."<em>

_ "No, no, no, thank __**you**__, you little charmer!" She playfully slaps his shoulder before raising her hands to her cheeks. "Goodness, you're making me blush. And here my friends made me believe that I was the intimidator."_

_ His laugh is natural as he settles back into the chair. "Sorry, Miss, I definitely didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."_

_ "Stop, stop!" She sits back down, but she's on the edge of her seat, with her body angled towards him. "I can tell - you're a real casanova. C'mon, Romeo, how many broken hearts have you left in your trail? How many girls are crying over you back home, hm? I bet you've got your own fan club back at the academy."_

_ He waves his hand dismissively. "No way. I'm a girl repellent." The crowd guffaws despite the sincere simper he wears. "Actually, there's this one girl I know from back home; she's the daughter of one of my dad's best friends. I've liked for forever, but I've never really had the courage to ask her out." He scratches his head as everyone "aw"s sympathetically._

_ "So, are you trying to tell me you're just this naturally charming? That it's not all just a ruse to get the girls?" He blinks, unsure of what to say, then raises his shoulders hopelessly. "I guess real princes do exist, ladies and gentlemen. Well, then, Altair, tell us more about yourself. What exactly makes you tick?"_

_ He grimaces a bit, though it's meant to be humorous. "Oh geez. That question's kinda difficult… Well, this is probably gonna sound super stereotypical, but I'm a big family guy. I've got three baby sisters and an older brother; I bet Linnea's super excited to see her big bro on screen." He waves at the camera, smiling amiably at the sister who is surely watching him._

_ "Oh yes, the charming family man," Merope sighs. "If only your type came in abundance… Anyway, your family will definitely be a good base of support, hm? They'll be wanting their boy to return safely, I'm sure."_

_ "Yeah." His smile softens. "I, well, we suffered a great loss a while ago. I've actually got four baby sisters; the oldest, Marigold, died when I was younger." Merope places a hand over her heart. "It's… not really something we've gotten over."_

_ "And what do you think Marigold would say, if she were here now, knowing what you have to go through?"_

_ "I think…" He rubs his hands together as his body leans forward, painting him in a picture of thought. "I think she would tell me to do my best, to try to win, to come back home so we can play together."_

_ "Do you think you'll be able live up to it?"_

_ He adjusts the ocean blue tie knotted around his neck as he sits up straight. "I'll sure as hell try," he replies with a lopsided grin._

_ "I'll be cheering for you from the sidelines, Altair. Good luck." He gives her a farewell hug, which she returns heartily, before walking offstage. "What's this? I think my heart is still a flutter! Goodness me, I don't know if I'll be able to live through these Hunger Games!" The spectators chuckle as they applaud both her and the boy who had previously been accompanying her. "We certainly don't have time to waste, though, so let's bring on our final contender from Fishing: Lana Wood!"_

* * *

><p>The cell phone that is so often glued to Elaine Wood's head is abandoned on the coffee table. Her attention is zoned in completely on the widescreen TV in her bedroom; she doesn't even notice her husband, who paces back and forth anxiously. She can only see the exuberant young woman jumping around on stage, waving and squealing at the audience and camera. This can't possibly be her daughter, she thinks. <em>"But <em>_**you**__ don't even know who she is, not really,"_ a voice tells her.

It hurts, she decides, being unable to recognize her own child.

* * *

><p><em>"Hey hey heeeey, beautiful people of the Capitol! You're all looking awfully beautiful today! Hello, hello!" Lana actually has to be dragged over to her chair by Merope, but the interviewer looks more than ecstatic to have another energetic tribute to share the stage with. "Hey hey hey, you're totally stealing my limelight!" She pouts when she's forced to sit down, and folds her arms over her chest.<em>

_ "Oh sweet potato, I don't think I could ever steal the limelight from someone in that hot get up," Merope joins in on the playful banter, winking. "You know, I don't think the audience got a real good look - and we'd hate for all the work of your prep team to go unnoticed. Go on, spin around a couple more times!"_

_ Now with permission from the host, Lana jumps to her feet and spins. Her seafoam green dress is tight and short, leaving little room for imagination. Her long legs are accentuated by the silver pumps on her feet, and her dirty blonde ringlets have been tamed and perfected so that they hang alluringly over her shoulders. A few boys in the crowd wolf whistle, and she reciprocates with a blown kiss in their direction._

_ "Alright, alright, now you're taking away the small spotlight I actually have left," Merope jokes, but the light tug she has on the tribute's arm is forceful enough to pull her down. "Wow. You are absolutely stunning, Lana. You must be extremely popular back home."_

_ "You don't even know," she giggles. "Kids are always lining up outside my dorm room, trying to get my autograph. It drives Dahlia crazy."_

_ Merope's eyebrows shoot up towards her exaggerated hairline. "Dahlia? The two of you are friends?"_

_ "She's my roommate," Lana answers evenly. "And, yeah, friend. We've been in the same class every year since we both joined the academy. She's been with me through everything."_

_ "Oh my goodness," she breathes. "And what's it like, knowing that you'll be pitted against someone you know so well, have been so close to for so long? Have the two of you talked about it?"_

_ Lana shakes her head heavily, her energy heavily depleting. "N-no. It's… not really a topic you wanna bring up over dinner."_

_ Merope nods understandingly and changes the topic, realizing that Lana will not willingly speak more about it. "What skills do you think you'll bring to the Games? What gives you the advantage over the others? Why do you think you're the one who will come out on top?"_

_ "Well, if I'm lucky we'll all just be dropped into the ocean or something," Lana laughs, her vigor returning. "I'm sure this applies to every kid born into my district, but I'm not just being cocky when I saw I'm an awesome swimmer. I guess it doesn't hurt that I'm blessed with such charm and beauty, either." The crowd laughs at her small pitch of humor, though the smirk she's wearing leads them to wonder if her arrogance is true or not._

_ "And what a deadly combination that all is," Merope agrees, nodding. "I wish for nothing but good fortune for you in the Games." The females shake each other's hands before Lana goes bounding off the stage, though not before making a final show for the audience. Once she's done blowing her kisses and waving, it's time for the next tribute to step up. "I can definitely see how District 4 are the favorites," Merope muses out loud, "but let's not rule out everyone else, hm? Please welcome, from District 5, Joel Connor!"_

* * *

><p>The CEO of a large power plant in District 5 is not tending to the hundreds of calls directed to his office. He is not overlooking his workers, not chatting with close co-workers, not scribbling his signature on the hundred pieces of paper that need to go through him for approval. Instead, he is at home, cuddled on the couch with his family, eyes glued to the television set. He's trying to stay strong for his wife and children, who are clinging to each other, as though afraid of losing yet another one of them, but even he cannot control the trembling of his clenched fists.<p>

"Joel," his mother chokes out, and her daughter reaches out to take her hand. She squeezes little Neera's hand, but cannot bring herself to tear away her gaze from the little boy sitting on stage.

* * *

><p><em>The plush chair is so large, it practically engulfs him; or maybe it's just that he's so small. Despite his diminutive stature, Joel sits upright, bearing an almost smile for Merope, who is cooing over how adorable he looks. "You are just too cute," she comments, admiring the outfit his preparation team created for him. The suit is pure black, with blue lines and circuits sewn in to resemble the characteristics of a computer chip. "You're the youngest one to join us today, aren't you?"<em>

_ "Ruby's twelve, too," he corrects._

_ "Oh my goodness, twelve," Merope gasps. "But you seem to act much older than your age. I'm sure your maturity spans far beyond your years." He blushes at the compliment, but says nothing. "I hear your father runs a large power plant in District 5. He must be very busy, considering how much the entire district depends on him."_

_ "Yes, my father's usually at work and my mother often helps him because so many people demand his time," he answers frankly. "It's given my siblings and I time to grow and decide a couple things on our own, though, and we do get to see them at dinner and on weekends. Being at school, though, it's a little more difficult, since I can only come home on holidays, and sometimes he gets swamped with work."_

_ "Speaking of school," she interrupts, "how do you do there? You're obviously much younger than many of your classmates. Do you ever feel intimidated?"_

_ "No." Her eyes flutter wide at his honesty. "I've… always picked up on things fairly quickly, so I've never had trouble with keeping up with the lessons. The academy is designed to accommodate to all ages and children from all districts, which is why they mix the classes so thoroughly. But going back to the first point, adaptation is a primal instinct; you should be able to take control of the environment, not the other way around."_

_ Merope blinks, impressed by both his vocabulary and general intelligence, and chuckles. "My, you certainly are an impressive young man, Joel. You'll be sure, now, that we'll be expecting a lot from you. After all, the Hunger Games are all about adapting to a new environment, aren't they?" He nods. "Remember, folks, age and size don't always equate a winner. Little he may be, but I suspect we've got a fighter in this one."_

_ Joel cringes at the use of the word "little," but he stands to shake her hand anyway. She towers over him by far, even without the aid of her seven inch pumps, and he suddenly feels a rush of intimidation. "T-thank you," he manages, unable to look her directly in the eyes._

_ "No, no, thank you, Joel," she insists, trying to override the wave of nervousness. "Please, let's give one more hand for the boy from the district of Power!" The crowd's claps are soft, as though they can sense his discomfort in front of them, and continue until he has left the stage. "My, my, my, so many districts and tributes, so little time." She wipes away the invisible sweat from her forehead and heaves a sigh. "But - no time for breaks just yet! We've got with us another lovely young lady from District 5: Oralee Roshan!"_

* * *

><p>The usually chaotic Roshan household is draped in tense silence. The children, who are usually running around, are quietly huddled around an antique radio in the kitchen. Aubrey sits beside her children in her wheel chair, calmly listening, while her husband works on creating tonight's dinner. "There she is," she whispers.<p>

* * *

><p><em>The smokey-colored dress is flattering on the willowy build of Oralee, who carefully treads across the stage to meet Merope. "Welcome to the Capitol, Oralee," Merope says kindly, taking her by the hands to lead her to the chairs in the center. "How have you enjoyed your stay so far?"<em>

_ "It's-" Something flashes behind her eyes when she cuts herself off. She thinks about her response, then replies, "It's been interesting."_

_ "Oh? How so?"_

_ "It's just different than what I'm used to," she admits, her gaze wandering around the studio in disbelief. "Both at home and at school. You all live a very… extravagant lifestyle." Becoming blinded by all the lights, she blinks away and shifts her attention to Merope, who is watching her. "It's so surreal."_

_ "And what's your favorite you've interacted with so far?"_

_ The pleasant look on the strawberry blonde's face shifts to something of mild annoyance. Merope notices instantly, but before she can recover, Oralee snaps. "You people kidnap me, lock me up in a cell, and take me away from everything I've ever known - and you think prettying me up and putting me on TV is going to make it better? What's my favorite thing about this disgusting society that takes away children and makes them __**kill each other**__?"_

_ Merope is stunned, to say the very least. A murmur ripples across the audience, but they two are at a loss for words and reactions. On stage, Oralee fumes, her brow furrowed and fists clenched in her dress. "You people are the worst," she whispers. "You're disgusting."_

_ Someone runs onto the stage - her stylist, most likely, judging by the way he is dressed - and carefully pulls her to her feet. "C'mon, Ora," he whispers into her ear, urging her to follow him offstage. She complies with no argument, though she does shoot a stony glare at the shell-shocked Merope._

_ "A-alright," she coughs after finally recovering. "W-well, then, folks, no time for breaks, right?" She pats the volume of white curls on her head and clears her throat, still visibly upset from the bizarre encounter. "Right… Okay, okay, on to District 6, then! The district of Transportation! Just to mix things up a bit though-" (she pauses and the audience laughs), "we're bringing on both representatives. Why, you wonder? I'll let you see for yourself." She winks playfully. "Please, help me in welcoming on Lewis and Lorea Carnet!"_

* * *

><p>It shouldn't be too much of a surprise, that she's the only one at home watching this unfortunate television program, with her husband no where in sight. He never cared much for his children, and was ecstatic when the two of them went away for school. She knows he'll use the excuse that he has to work - which he does - but she can't help but wonder there is a part of him that is concerned for their well-being.<p>

Delilah Carnet exhales heavily before raising the large coffee cup to her lips.

* * *

><p><em>The twins are dressed in the likeness of train conductors, hat and all. The only difference between the two of them is that Lorea is wearing a dress - that, and her frown is large enough to separate the upper part of her face from the lower. Lewis, contrarily, bears a grin as he waves excitedly at the crowd. "My oh my, I don't think we've ever had twins in the history of the Games," Merope states, clearly thrilled by the concept. "Oh, goodness, we've only two seats…"<em>

_ "Go ahead, I don't mind. I can stand," Lewis offers sweetly, motioning to the two chairs to the females._

_ "Such a gentleman," Merope sings, while Lorea rolls her eyes. "So the two of you hail from District 6, you're twins, you're both in the same class at the academy… I'm going to assume you both get along very well."_

_ "She's my best friend," he confirms, and the crowd swoons. "I mean, we're very different, but… She knows me better than anyone." He and his sister lock gazes momentarily, but she quickly turns her head to the side and scowls. She can't completely hide her flushed cheeks from the camera, however. "We've been through it all together. Hopefully, we'll be able to go back home together, too."_

_ "That is very sweet," Merope says earnestly. "But…" She looks crestfallen at the unspoken words, and Lewis's face does the same._

_ "But there's only one victor," Lorea speaks up finally, voicing the words that neither of them want to say._

_ Lewis looks troubled, but Merope nods grimly and reaches across to hold Lorea's hand; the latter tries her hardest not to yank her hands away. "Yes, that is true… But I'm sure your sibling bond will play a very important role in how the two of you do in the Hunger Games. So… Is there anyone waiting for the two of you back home, aside from your parents?"_

_ Lorea scoffs loudly, earning a questioning look. "Except our parents are probably out clubbing right now. They're probably thinking, good riddance.'"_

_ "Lorea!" Lewis scolds, his eyebrows knitted together in concern._

_ "Oh, right, I forgot - Mom actually likes you," she answers offhandedly, rolling her eyes once more. He looks truly distraught by her words, but he can't say anything to counter the candidness of what she's said. "A lot of people like Lewis," she says to Merope, who's both interested and confused by the sibling dynamic. "He's even got a girlfriend waiting for him back at the academy."_

_ "Is that right?" Merope gushes, having already proven that she's a hopeless romantic._

_ "Yes, and I miss her, but… Well, right now my primary concern is just getting back home - with Lorea." They all know what Merope wants to say, that it's fruitless and he should be concentrating on his lone victory, but she smiles at his sweet demeanor._

_ "No doubt, the two of you will be great assets to each other," she concludes, and the twins exchange a look. "Thank you so much, Lewis and Lorea, and good luck to the both of you in the Hunger Games." She makes sure to shake the hands of both Carnet siblings before sending them off, with Lewis being a little more kind to the crowd. "Whew! Fifteen tributes, and we're only halfway there! We'll be taking a short break, but don't go away! Right after our short intermission, we'll continue with the interviews for the tributes of the 76th Hunger Games!"_

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Stripped" - Shiny Toy Guns<p>

* * *

><p>Aaaand there's Districts 1-6! Districts 7-13 will be in the next chapter. Remember to vote, even if your character hasn't been featured yet; there will be two winners, after all. Also, keep an eye out for tributes you may want to ally with. I have a general idea of alliances and whatnot, but your input is important to me as well. Once I get the rest of the tributes up, I'll ask for your official requests for alliances (and possible romances).<p>

Until next time!

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	7. saint or sinner, pt 2

Author's Note:

To everyone watching Legend of Korra: HOW ARE YOU COPING WITH YOUR FEELS BECAUSE MY FEELS ARE EVERYWHERE AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF. To everyone watching Euro 2012: AUF GEHT'S DEUTSCHLAND (though I have a soft spot for Denmark, but Germany is where my loyalties lie). To everyone else: how are you doing? How are your summers/ending of the school year?

Alright, so I am putting up another poll for this chapter's tributes, but I'll keep up the other as well. I'll keep the polls open for a week or so, so make sure to get your votes in! Right now Altair is in the lead, with Dahlia and Lorea close behind. Remember to vote for who you like the best - the fate of these tributes rest in your hands!

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Six  
>Saint or Sinner, pt. 2<p>

Opening Song: "The Ruler and the Killer" - Kid Cudi

* * *

><p>Despite the twenty minute intermission, no one from the Duncan family moves from their huddled position around the radio. It's cramped in the small kitchen, but no one seems to notice or care. <em>"Aaaaand, welcome back to the interviews for the 76th Hunger Games!"<em> Everyone sits up straight at the sound of Merope's perky voice. _"For all of you tuning in late, I am Merope Duncaine, this year's host, and our tributes hail from the Academy of Unified Panem's class 7-A. Right before our break, we finished off with the twins from District 6, but I think it's time to continue, yes?"_ The crowd's roars are deafening. _"Coming all the way from District 7 is our very own Mykal Duncan!"_

* * *

><p><em>The girl who walks on looks a little intimidated, but she manages a smile, even if it is a little uneasy. "There's no need to be so nervous," Merope says soothingly as she walks over to meet her in the middle. "You look beautiful."<em>

_ Mykal, dressed in a shimmery brown dress and simple black heels, blushes and quietly says, "Thank you." She allows herself to be escorted to the red chair in the middle, where she rests her wobbly legs. "You guys sure are, uh, welcoming," she comments, a little unsure of her words, as she looks around at the studio and finally merope. "I didn't know a seemingly extinct people could be so… festive." As if to emphasize her point, the garish crowd bursts into rowdy laughter._

_ "You're precious," Merope says, and though it's meant to be a compliment, the confused look on Mykal's face implies she takes it as anything but. "What do you mean by 'seemingly extinct,' though?"_

_ "We all thought you were dead," she answers bluntly, raising her shoulders in a slight shrug. "Everything we were taught in school just kind of alluded to it. I mean, there were a lot of people who thought you guys just blended in and got used to our culture, but a lot just… I dunno, thought you disappeared, I guess. I asked my teachers a lot, but none of them agreed on an answer."_

_ Merope blinks in awe before extending her surprise to the rest of the audience. "Well, who would have thought? We've been living here in luxury for the past one hundred years, and they thought we were dead!" They laugh at the (obviously) ludicrous idea. "And what did you think of us, Mykal?"_

_ She purses her lips in thought. "Well… I didn't really know what to think, to be honest," she admits sheepishly. "So many people told me so many different things, so I couldn't rally form my own opinion. There were definitely a lot of pictures in our history books, though. I thought a lot of you looked, uh, interesting," she says, for a lack of other words. "And… You used a lot of pretty colors and stuff."_

_ "That is so sweet," Merope gushes, absolutely pleased by what she hears. "Anything else?"_

_ "Mostly negative things," she says, before she can really think about it. Instantly she slaps a hand to her mouth, inwardly scolding herself for her lack of brain-to-mouth filter. Rather than being offended, however, Merope looks mildly amused. "W-what I mean is… Um, the textbooks portrayed you in a pretty negative light. I mean… Exploitation, oppression, abuse, neglect… T-that's just what I read."_

_ The crowd murmurs among one another. "I see," she replies, still smiling. "I suppose I can understand how you would think that, what with your Unified Panem hiding so much from you. The bias you developed wasn't your fault, at all."_

_ A small dip appears between Mykal's eyebrow. "Bias? Honestly, yes, that might be true, especially considering the fact that they tried to erase the Hunger Games from history, but… But can you really say that you've changed?" There's that honesty again, but she is far from sorry this time. "You're exploiting children on TV, oppressing them, abusing them… You're killing them - us. You're exactly like how the textbooks portrayed you."_

_ Merope's eyes are wide, and she looks around back and forth, as though asking for help. "W-well-"_

_ "You're just as evil as President Mala said you were." Mykal doesn't have to be escorted off like Oralee was. Instead, she walks off on her own, leaving the host dazed and awestruck by her cutting words. The audience is in a similar state of shock, so much that they can't even bring themselves to give her a courtesy clap._

_ This is something that Merope was trained and prepared for, though, so she manages to sit up in her seat with some recovered dignity. "My, such an interesting group of tributes we received this year," she manages, forcing a laugh (and the audience follows on cue). "We'll all definitely be sitting on the edges of our seat for this one, hmm? Well, enough of that. Let's bring on our next tribute from District 7: Keldon Peak!"_

* * *

><p>A family photo sits on the living room coffee table; it features five happy individuals, including a younger version of the boy currently on TV. Mother glances at the photo several times throughout the interview, her heart aching every time she sees the two boys - two boys who may never come home. One is gone for good, but the mother's life is dangling by a string.<p>

* * *

><p><em>The next tribute walks onto the stage wearing the brightest of grins. He's extremely friendly to the audience, making sure to wave at and acknowledge them. Were one to look at Merope, they would see a look of relief on her face; certainly, she's grateful to have another cooperative tribute. "Welcome, welcome, Keldon," she chirps, standing up to shake his hand. "How are you doing today?"<em>

_ "Pretty great!" he answers with a laugh as he sits down. "You know, while we were out a couple days ago, they replaced our prison beds with those really nice mattresses - the ones that you literally sink into. I don't think I've ever slept in such a nice bed before."_

_ "So… you're favorite part about being here is… the beds?" she drawls out slowly, quirking an eyebrow at him._

_ "What? You don't have a bed like that?" he asked, his eyes wide in surprise. "You've gotta try them - I swear, you'll think you've never truly slept until you laid down one." _

_ She bursts out into little giggles, as well as the audience, and he grins impishly. "Well, you certainly do look like you've gotten a good night's rest. You have a certain glow about you," she compliments, cheeks full with laughter. "That, or you just clean up very nicely." She indicates the beige suit and dark shirt he's got on, and he makes a kind gesture to his preparation team. "Oh? But what's that you've got around your neck? Or is that something you picked up while you've been here?"_

_ "This?" He looks down and carefully holds the small wooden bear he has hanging around his neck. "It's… something my father gave to me before I left for school a couple of years ago. It belonged to my brother before he passed away." She raises her hand to cover her mouth, which hangs open in shock. "It's a nice reminder that Asher's always with me, even if it's not physically."_

_ "And do you think he'll give you the strength necessary to win these Games?" she asks softly, not wanting to prod at any wounds._

_ His smile is very tender, though it's not intended for her or anyone else in the studio. "He gives me the strength through make it through every day. To me, Asher's still alive, right now, right here. This is just another obstacle I have to get through, and he'll be there by my side when the time comes."_

_ The audience is silent, though it's with reverence for the strong young man in front of them. "Oh my. Thank you so much, Keldon," Merope says as she reaches across the space between them to embrace him; he returns the gentle hug with verve. "And good luck to you in the Hunger Games." She waves goodbye to him like a mother would to a child. "So many sad stories, so little time," she sighs hopelessly, wiping a tear from her eye. "That being said, we have no time to waste, so we must continue on. Let's all give a warm welcome to Luke Darkwood!"_

* * *

><p>It's not difficult to identify the energetic male who literally runs onto the stage, pumping his fists in the air as though he's won the championship game. Despite the situation, Dale Darkwood smiles, if not because of his son's infectious cheeriness, then because he's elated to see that Luke is still himself. "Leave it to your brother to get all hyped up in a situation like this," he says proudly. The younger siblings nod in agreement, watching their older brother with pride.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"This is extremely awesome!" Luke proclaims as he waves around excitedly to the audience, who whoop and cheer and love him - even if he's only been on stage for twenty seconds. "You guys are great - I don't know what the others were talking about," he says, earning both laughter and confusion. "Geez, you guys really know how to make a guy feel loved," he states when Merope drags him over to his chair by the arm. "I might never wanna leave."<em>

_ "And I don't think they wanna let you go, hon," she giggles. "Well, before I say anything, I have to commend you: feel people can pull that look off, especially as well as you can." Luke's donning an outfit that very much resembles a stereotypical lumberjack, sans the axe. "Now, if I saw a guy walking across the street in that get up, I'd think he was a slob with no self-respect. When you're wearing it, though - whoo-ee, be still my heart!"_

_ As if for added effect, he snaps the black suspenders. "Well, not to brag or anything, but I am told I'm the best tree chopper in my district, so it's only right that I dress the part, right?"_

_ Merope is giggling so hard she's nearly on the verge of tears. "You are too much, Luke. Part of me just wants to keep you for myself." He grins. "Judging by your performance today, you must be popular back home, at the academy. What was life like? What's typical in a day in the life of Luke Darkwood?"_

_ '"It was great!" he explains enthusiastically, with much more genuine excitement than any other tribute has displayed. "I mean, yeah, school sucks and it's hard, but it's fun 'cause it's just a bunch of us kids running around all the time, you know? I was a student council representative with a couple friends, for our class. It was awesome 'cause people always came up to talk to us, and it's nice to have people who trust you. Gives you a sense of self worth and stuff, you know?"_

_ The host, who looks absolutely enamored by the boy from 7, probably barely registers all that he's said. "Seriously, though, Luke, can I just take you home?" she asks in a tone that's so even, there's a real question as to whether or not she's serious._

_ Luke guffaws as he pats her smaller hand with his large one. "Thanks, Merope, but I've got someone waiting for me back home. She's not really the jealous type, but she's the love of my life." Always drawn in by romance, both the audience and Merope croon over his story and sway. "I met her at the academy - which is another reason why I love that place so much. Everything I have, save for my family, is back there on that campus."_

_ She smiles gently as she takes his hand into both of hers. "You really know how to break a lady's heart, Luke," she says amiably, lightly patting his dark skin. "First you charm her, then you tell her about the other woman." She sighs heavily and shakes her head, as if in disappointment. "What are we going to do about you?"_

_ "Keep on loving me enough to send me lots of things?" he tries, raising his shoulders as he grins broadly._

_ Her laughter is loud, showing off her bright white teeth. "Oh my goodness, Luke - letting you go is just going to bring the waterworks. Get out of here, get out." She slaps him playfully on the arm, then stands up with him to bid him goodbye. "Good luck in the Hunger Games, Luke, and hopefully, maybe, you'll be standing up here in a month?"_

_ "You can bet on it!" he answers confidently before pulling her in for a tight hug. He makes sure to wave to the crowd one last time before he runs off, throwing his fists into the air as he shouts about freedom._

_ "Oi ve," Merope sighs as she fans herself. "I don't know how many more of these I can take." The crowd chortles. "But a host's work is never done, is it? So then, let's bring on our final tribute from the District of Lumber: Skyloh Hemmington!"_

* * *

><p>Home is empty, as it has been so often these days. Stark doesn't like to stay inside; he always feels cramped and suffocated, and the isolation only bothers him more. Being outside, even when he's alone - he's never really alone. Today he sits between two tombstones, both decorated with fresh yellow flowers. In his lap is a bag of chips, along with a small portable radio. <em>"Why, I think a fairy just floated in!"<em>

_ "Who are you calling a fairy!"_

A small smile tugs at his lips. "There she is, guys," he announces, before pulling out a chip and throwing it into his mouth.

* * *

><p><em>Perhaps it's the way the forest green dress is cut (backless, with the hem styled at angle, wispy), and maybe it's the addition of her platinum pixie cut, but Skyloh certainly does look like something out of a fairytale. Her arms are folded across her chest indignantly, however, and she's bearing a disapproving pout. "Oh, you know I meant it as a compliment," Merope teases, ever-so-slightly entertained by the slight pink dusted across the tribute's cheeks.<em>

_ "'Can't remember the last time anyone used 'fairy' in a compliment," she retorts. Skyloh shoots a glare into the audience, probably where her preparation team is seated. "Stark would never let me down if he saw me like this…"_

_ "Stark?" Merope perks up, eyes twinkling mischievously. Skyloh leans away from her, slightly terrified by the sudden enthusiasm. "Your boyfriend? Lover? A friend to whom you've yet to confess?"_

_ Skyloh's face deadpans for a full five seconds before she bursts outs into raucous laughter. "Boyfriend! Lover! Oh God!" she cackles, kicking her legs. "Oh God, if he hears this…" She wordlessly asks a befuddled Merope for a couple more moments to compose herself. "No, oh God, you are so wrong," she says finally, laughter still on her lips. "Stark is my younger brother. He's __**ten**__. My ten-year-old brother," she elaborates._

_ Merope purses her lips, feeling like she's being made fun of. "My apologies, dear, I didn't know… I just assumed-"_

_ "No, forget about it. He's probably laughing his ass off right now, too," Skyloh replies dismissively, flicking her wrist back and forth. "If we're talking about boyfriends and romantic relationships, I really don't have time for one. School takes all the energy out of me, and when I'm home I'm usually working. Somebody's gotta put food on the table, you know."_

_ "Very self-sufficient, I see. That'll definitely come in handy, hm?"_

_ "Well… yeah. Hopefully."_

_ "But what about your parents?"_

_ "Dead." Merope is very physically startled by the way Skyloh answers, but the platinum blonde looks impassive. "You know… It's funny." Her voice has lost its vivacity and volume; in their stead is the slightest simmer of anger; Merope braces herself for another screaming tribute. "Everyone talks about how horrible you people are, and how terrible you are for treating us like this. No one really steps back to look at how screwed up our own society is, though."_

_ She looks around the studio until her gaze connects with the lens of a camera. "My parents were killed by Peacekeepers. No one was put on trial or announced guilty, even though the blood was literally found on their clothes. Wanna know why?" She shifts her eyes to Merope, who doesn't move. "They said it was an accident. They said they were chasing criminals, that they mistook my parents - normal lumberers - as murderers. My mom never spanked me or my brother once, because she was afraid she'd hurt us - and yet they could accuse her of murder."_

_ The audience sits in silence, dazed by the deliverance of her story. Even Merope cannot come up with a proper response, and Skyloh notices, so she smiles sardonically. "It's terrible, isn't it? That the great government of Unified Panem is responsible for the deaths of two innocents. That they covered up murder because it would stain their image. You know what they did to keep me and my brother quiet? Gave us money. That's how I was able to get into the academy. They gave us money to shut us up, because it would have been too suspicious to kill us all off."_

_ "What do you mean?" Merope asks softly, finding her voice._

_ "My parents had knowledge of something that no one was supposed to have knowledge of. They knew about it, and the Peacekeepers found out - so they got rid of 'em. Ironically, what they were trying to hide is now known to everyone in Unified Panem, unless they've found a way to censor this as well."_

_ "The Hunger Games? Right, because it was erased from your textbooks."_

_ "Yeah, so I guess it's a little wake up call to President Mala." Skyloh looks back at the camera with a sneer. "You tried to hide it and failed - and look at where we are now. You're no better than the Capitol." She makes sure to politely shake Merope's hand before silently wandering off stage._

_ Merope clears her throat, tries to regain control of the situation, but she's obviously still very affected by the interview. "Skyloh Hemmington, everyone!" she manages, and the crowd claps, though it's slow. There's a thoughtfulness to their silence and lack of energy. "Let's bring on our tributes from District 8, hmm?" she questions, wanting to continue the show. "Come on out, Nyle Grimmsley!"_

* * *

><p>She's worried about him, but more than anything, she's scared for him. He's not a child anymore and he can take care of himself, she knows, but knowing that he's been forced into the unbelievable… She's not sure if he'll be able to make it out in tact. "Nyle'll be alright, Mom," her daughter confirms, looking up at her from her seat on the floor. "He'll be alright, right?"<p>

May gives Lisha a watery smile, but takes her hand into hers for reassurance.

* * *

><p><em>"What a dashing young man we've got joining us today!" Merope declares when Nyle walks out dressed in a sharply tailored black suit, with his usual curtain of hair slicked back neatly. "Come, come," she beckons, reaching out to pull him towards the seats with both hands. "Goodness gracious - color me impressed! I mean, I know you're from Textiles, but who'd have thought you'd dress so well?"<em>

_ The smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it's obvious he's flattered by her compliments. "Well, my preparation team worked pretty hard," he replies, "so the credit should really go to them."_

_ "Ah, but the threads are nothing without the mannequin!" she corrects, and he chuckles abashedly. "So, Nyle, you seem like a very reserved young man. Is it hard when you're constantly surrounded by so many big personalities all the time? Do you ever feel overlooked or over shadowed by the others in the class?"_

_ "Not particularly, I mean… I mean, it's not like any of them are ever intentionally rude or anything." He pauses, as though rethinking his words, but decides to brush it off. "Yeah, a lot of them are really loud, and a lot of them obviously like attention, but to each their own. I'm just… not that kind of guy. I'll even admit that it's hard for me to be out here right now."_

_ Merope nods understandingly as the audience quietens. "Of course, that makes sense. Not everyone can run out, guns ablaze. I hope you don't mind my asking, though: what's something that really makes you stick out from the others? What's a reason for us to watch you and cheer for you, rather than the others?"_

_ He hesitates to answer, and the look of uncertainty he wears does not go unnoticed. "I'm not totally defenseless, like most people tend to think I am when they meet me," he says, before Merope can intervene on his behalf. "I don't spend all that time alone moping around, crying about how I can't do anything." There's a different spark in his eye now; it almost completely changes his outer appearance. "I'm ready for anything."_

_ She blinks at this newfound confidence, stuck between impressed and bewildered. "What gives you that edge over the other tributes?"_

_ The grin he wears is not his own. "If I told you, that'd ruin all the fun."_

_ "Baaaaw, and you guys know how much I love secrets!" Merope sighs dramatically, but hangs her head in defeat. The audience laughs and cheers, bursting with noise after a prolonged silence. "But we all know I'm not one to pry, so let's send Mr. Grimmsley on his way. Thank you, and good luck in the Games, Nyle." She makes sure to shake his hand before he departs. "Now, let's bring on Kate Abner from District 8!"_

* * *

><p>Kate would cry, her sister thinks, if she knew that her parents weren't watching. Mom has been locked in her room since the news came that she was missing, though honestly that's not anything new; the woman is scared of her own shadow. Dad has been busying himself with work, and likewise, that's not much different than the usual routine, either. Thirteen-year-old Avery is the only family in the audience that Kate will have.<p>

* * *

><p><em> Merope can tell that the girl who wanders onto the stage is frightened beyond belief; her dazed expression cannot be masked by the beautiful makeup or intricate hairstyle. "Hello, darling," she greets, after walking all the way across the stage to take her hands. "You look absolutely beautiful!" Kate is wearing a beautiful halter neck purple dress that extends to the floor, giving the impression that she glides when she walks.<em>

_ "Thank you," she says, though it's so quiet Merope isn't sure if she's said anything at all._

_ "Have a seat, dear." She sits down across from the mousy tribute, who nervously plays with a strand of her dark hair. "There's no need to look so starstruck. After all, __**you're**__ the star right now." Despite her attempts to coax Kate, the brunette only nods and swallows thickly, wordlessly expressing her fear. "Well, why don't we start with something simple? Tell us about your family."_

_ "M-my family?" she echoes, voice barely raising above hearing level. Merope bobs her head slowly, as though afraid of startling her and causing her to run off. "They're…" She bites down on her lower lip. "I love my younger sister Avery. She's only thirteen, but she's the sweetest. She's like my best friend, I think." Merope looks touched by her words, as shaky as they are. "I don't… Um, I don't really know about my parents, though?"_

_ "What do you mean?" Merope asks, carefully, softly._

_ "I'm just… not really sure if they, well… Um…" A piece of her extravagant hairdo falls out of place because she's playing with it so frantically now. "I don't really talk to them that much," she finally gets out, after a couple moments of rethinking her statement. "I don't really see them that often, either, I mean, not even that much considering I'm in school most of the year. Whenever I come home, it's usually just me and Avery."_

_ Merope pats her hand sympathetically, but she flinches at the contact. The host continues on as though nothing happened. "That's unfortunate about your parents, but a siblings' bond is not something that can be so easily imitated. I'm sure she misses you dearly." The first smile worms its way onto Kate's face, and though it's small, it lights up her entire persona. "How was school life for you back in the old Capitol? Were you the partier I think you are-" (the crowd laughs), "- or did you prefer to spend your time alone?"_

_ "Well, Avery goes to school, too, though we're in different classes," she answers. "I… Well, I'm closest to her. I don't really… Well, I mean, I'm not great at making friends."_

_ "I find that hard to believe," Merope pshaws. "But I suppose that works in your favor, right?"_

_ "W-what do you mean?" _

_ "If there are no attachments, it will be that much easier to make it through the Hunger Games." Kate visibly pales at the implied meaning behind Merope's words. She tries to shake her head, but all she can do it gulp. Merope takes note of the fear that has taken over the young tribute once more, and decides to step in. "Well, in any event, we all wish you the very best of luck, dearest."_

_ Kate can't even mumble a 'thank you,' but she nods and slowly meanders off stage, her shoulder slumped._

_ Merope looks genuinely concerned for the brunette, but knows that little can be done about it now. "And that's it for District 8, folks! Coming up next, we've got only one tribute from District 9: Korra Blackthorne!"_

* * *

><p>Work waits for no one in the district of Grain, but sometimes there are things more important than putting food on the table. The Blackthorne parents sit at a table in the break room, hovering over the small screen TV a coworker brought in just for them. Two cold, untouched coffee cups sit in front of them as they observe the young woman who slides onto the screen. They're so engrossed by the program that they don't even notice their friends slipping out the room, leaving them alone with their daughter.<p>

* * *

><p><em>The first thing Korra does when she walks out is wink at the audience, and they respond by screaming and cheering. "They're just eating you up!" Merope says with a laugh as Korra heads towards her seat, all the while shooting thumb's up's and waves at the crowd. "Are you sure you've never done this before?" she asks dubiously, eyeing her with faux suspicion.<em>

_ "I can't help if I'm a people person," Korra replies airily, and there's some laughter backstage. She shoots a sharp glare in their direction, silently forcing them to hush up, before flashing a grin at Merope._

_ Before she can take a seat in the red chair, Merope pauses her. "Oh, please, wait just a moment. Your dress is absolutely stunning - why don't you give the audience a better look?" Without waiting for another request, Korra spins around, so that everyone can admire the glittery gold dress she is wearing. The back dips low, exposing pale skin, and the knee length of the hem compliments her toned legs. "Geez, I wish I could pull off something like that! Well then, go ahead, go ahead and take a seat." Merope folds her hands in her lap. "How's the Capitol been treating you so far?"_

_ "You mean aside from being kidnapped and held hostage?" The crowd, along with Merope, hold their breath. "Well, I have to admit, it's nice having my own room and getting to eat so much." They all release their breaths, followed by short laughter. "Me and my family aren't too well off, especially compared to a lot of people in Unified Panem. It's a one room house and sometimes we don't have enough food for a full meal."_

_ "And what's the best thing you've had here so far?"_

_ "Seriously? I can't even begin to tell you," she chortles. "One second it's cupcakes, another it's soup, then there was that full turkey…"_

_ "A full turkey! And you're still that skinny!"_

_ "Hey, you live off beans and rice for sixteen years, and then seriously tell me you can't eat a whole turkey." Merope holds up her hands in acquiescence, as everyone knows she's always had three full meals a day since she was born. "I gotta hand it to you guys - you really know how to cook. I don't think my parents would know what to do with themselves if they had all this food."_

_ Merope looks at her pityingly, the way most people look at the homeless or poor. Korra's eyebrow twitches ever-so-slightly in irritation, but she knows it was just how the people of the Capitol are raised. "What's it like, leaving your parents behind? Do you think they miss you?"_

_ "Well, I'm gone most of the year for school, but… Me and my folks have always been close. They're all I have really," she murmurs solemnly. "Um… There's something I want to say to them, if it's okay." The host has a curious expression on her face, but nods. "Mom, Dad." She turns to face the camera, tries to envision it as the two people who mean the most to her in this world. "I… I kind of lied to you. All that food I brought home - it wasn't from working small jobs on the side. Hell, I couldn't really get anyone to hire me." She rubs the back of her head sheepishly. "But I was scared, because I knew people died starvation. We were almost there, and I didn't think we'd ever be able to get out. I know it goes against everything you've ever taught me, but the food… I stole it."_

_ The crowd gasps in surprise, and Korra bites the insides of her cheeks before continuing. "I just… I know you guys always gave the larger portion, even when you lied about it. It wasn't - it isn't fair. You guys work so hard, and we can barely make ends meet. And it wasn't like those people were gonna miss the food, anyway… They always left food to spoil because they had so much of it. But I know that isn't an excuse." She smiles bitterly. "I just… I'm sorry."_

_ Merope's lower lips quivers, and her eyes are shining with actual tears. "What a beautiful confession." Korra looks a little uneasy now, but she manages a short grin anyway. "Thank you for sharing, Korra, and I hope all goes well for you." When they stand up, Merope is the one who initiates the hug; despite her vivacity, Korra can only awkwardly pat her back in return. "Good luck." The brunette waves goodbye to Merope and the crowd, then leaves._

_ "Oh dear, I'm going to ruin my make up." She sniffs while dabbing at her eyes with a small kerchief. "Alright, let's continue on, then, with our tributes from District 10. Give it up for Mattheo Shermore!"_

* * *

><p>"He's so stupid." The harsh words are accompanied by sobs and hiccups and tears. Mother and father can barely comfort their daughter, who's sitting in front of the TV crying over the image of her older brother. "You're so, so <em>stupid<em>, Mattheo." She wants to tell him that she's sorry, that she didn't mean all those terrible and cruel things she said to him, that she doesn't care if he likes fashion and looking nice. There's no point in it now, though, now when he's so far away and her only connection to him are television waves. "Come back, stupid," she whispers, as though he can hear her. "Come back."

* * *

><p><em>Mattheo is absolutely in awe when he sees all the people sitting in the audience, watching him. He's dazzled by the extravagantly dressed people, having only seen pictures of them in school books. "You're supposed to be the one awing us, dearest, not the other way around," Merope teases good-naturedly when he finally meets her in the middle of the stage. "Though I must say, you look quite dazzling on your own." His gold-colored suit is nothing short of fantastic, and its accompaniment of a pristine black vest, white shirt, and black bow tie add to his own air of class. His dark hair is streaked with silver. "You don't look as though you totally hate the transformation, either."<em>

_ "To be totally honest, I've always kind of admired your fashion," he admits a little reluctantly, though with a soft laugh. "I mean, I only had what was in books, but… Well, the fashion of District 10 isn't exactly high on the charts. It's sort of just what happens when you're supposed to be making a living off livestock."_

_ The audience chortles, but Merope looks absolutely flattered. "Oh! I didn't know we had a fashionista on our hands! People think we're ignorant, but we know how others perceive us - have always perceived us: as gaudy and over bearing and ridiculous. I'm surprised you don't think the same, especially since you grew up with people practically teaching you these things."_

_ His simper displays a bit of embarrassment. "Well I always kept it to myself. I don't even know what my sister or classmates would say if I ever told them I admired stylists and fashion from the Capitol. Probably disown me." Even if there's a joking tone in his voice, they can't help but think he's serious. "No, I mean… I've always kind of had a passion for appearance and style. I mean, it's a little hard, I guess, especially considering where I'm from."_

_ "What, you mean cow herders don't wear heels and scarves?" The crowd laughs at the jibe, and even Mattheo can't help the slight quirking of his lips. "You make it sound as though you're bit of a black sheep, though. How was life back home?"_

_ "Honestly, it was great," he answers genuinely. "Yeah, I was different, and sometimes it was difficult, but… I got along with people, had friends… It got a little easier when I went to school, though. It's a lot easier to find people who accept you when it's a mixed pool."_

_ "Did you ever feel as though people were judging you unfairly?"_

_ He hesitates to answer. "Yeeeah," he drawls out carefully. "It's kind of just a part of human nature, I guess, judging people before you really get to know them. Then again, my sister's known me for thirteen years, and she's the harshest judge I've ever had, but…" He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. "I just gotta make do with what I have, you know? And I'm happy with my life, where I am. Well, maybe not in this particular situation, but…"_

_ "You sound like a very strong man, Mattheo," Merope compliments with a sweet smile. "And someone we could all really look up to. How do you think you'll do in the Hunger Games?"_

_ He wraps his arms around his torso, a sign of discomfort. "I'm not… I don't think I could kill anyone," he says honestly, eyebrows knitting together. "I don't think I could ever really harm anyone."_

_ Merope bears a sympathetic expression. "Because you know what it's like to be hurt, and you would never want to inflict that upon others." He nods, a little dumbstruck. "But it's a game of survival, isn't it, folks? Our prayers will go with you, Mattheo." She stands up to embrace him, then shakes his hand before sending him off. "Time is winding down, and so is our number of tributes. Coming on for District 10 next is Zook Merrow! Come on out, Zook!"_

* * *

><p>Sometimes she feels selfish, even if none of this is her fault, even if she never wished for this. It's always been like this, with her lying sick in bed, fruitlessly trying to recover, while he went out to work for all three of them. It shouldn't be like this, though, with her alone and Zook on TV and him off working, unable to watch his own son because the payments for her endless need for medicine won't pay themselves. She feels so selfish and helpless because, ones again, she can't do anything, and both her boys are off trying their hardest. More than anything, though, she just feels alone.<p>

She reminds herself over and over again, though, that this isn't about her. It doesn't matter if she feels lonely or self-piteous because this just _isn't _about her - it's about so much more. When she sees her own child walk across the stage on the scratchy television screen, the weakest of smiles worms its way onto her face.

* * *

><p><em>He's definitely a little camera shy, but Zook is trying his hardest to grin and bear it. Merope, able to spot fear and nervousness from miles away, shuffles across in her tight dress in order to meet him with welcoming arms. "Don't be shy, darling. We're just here to make you feel loved, after all," she says soothingly as she pulls him towards the center of the platform.<em>

_ "I guess I just feel a little stupid," he admits, chuckling, as he tugs at the collar of his maroon shirt. His slacks are a shade of red, as well, and the only other color he's wearing is black - a vest, tie, and shiny shoes. "I'm not really a dress up kinda guy."_

_ "Which makes sense, of course, if you're working with livestock." Though she's trying to make him feel more at ease, the distaste in her voice does not go unnoticed when she mentions animals. Honestly, though, no one would peg Merope Duncaine as an animal person, anyway._

_ "Yeah, if I ever came home wearing this - well, first my dad would probably beat me for wearing anything this expensive when we could use the money for food," (the audience laughs and Merope giggles), "and then Luna would probably rub her nose all over it."_

_ "Luna?"_

_ He's beaming when he answers, "My favorite cow!"_

_ The crowd guffaws and chortles, as though what he said was a joke. Merope herself is between amusement and disgust, whereas Zook looks slightly confused. "Your… You have a favorite cow?"_

_ "Hey," he speaks up defensively, "she's one of my best friends. Cows are way more sympathetic than humans." He pauses when he realizes that the audience is still trying to recover from their laughter, and the look on his face implies he hadn't really meant anything he said as a joke. Still, he wears a small smile, more at ease now than earlier when he had first walked out. "You're all laughing at me, but I bet you've never talked to a cow about your problems. Luna gives me the best advice, over anyone I've ever known."_

_ "You're not allowed to bring your pets to school, though, are you?" Merope asks skeptically._

_ Zook instantly raises a hand to silence her, and sits back, startled. "First of all, Luna is not a pet - she is a friend." A couple of snickers sound. "Second of all, I'm not allowed to bring her because 1) Mom and Dad need her milk back home and she brings in a lot of money and 2) Altair would be pissed if he had to share his room with a cow. I mean, I know he won you all over with his whole 'Ooo, charming' thing, but he is not a morning person."_

_ She tries to stifle her giggle, but cannot fully hide her merriment. "So are the two of you friends, then?"_

_ He blinks at the question. "Ah… Not exactly. I mean, everyone likes Altair - I think. I mean, yeah. He's a class representative and yeah, I live with him - by the way, he's really bad with keeping his side of the room clean - but… We're not super close or anything."_

_ "And is there anyone in your class you'd consider yourself close to?"_

_ The smile he wears is enough to answer her question, but it's not enough to satisfy Merope's curiosity. He can see it in her eyes, the question she's begging to ask, and he can't help but laugh at her eagerness. "Before you ask, no I don't have a girlfriend. It'd be unfair to all girls to tie myself down to just one girl." Merope actually snorts she's laughing so hard, leaving Zook to snicker. "Anyway. I'm a little awkward when it comes to meeting new people, just 'cause it's hard for me to really reach out and make the first move, so the friends I do have mean a lot to me."_

_ "And their names…?"_

_ "Are probably better left a secret for now," he responds teasingly, but the expression he wears implies he means what he says. "It… might not be in any of our interests to bring up specifics now."_

_ Merope sighs hopelessly and hangs her head. "You guys know I love secrets, but not so much when they're being kept from me." He just grins when she pouts. "Well, thank you for joining us today, Zook, and I wish you the best of luck in the Hunger Games. I'm sure Luna will be cheering for you as well." She shakes Zook's hand before waving goodbye to him and turning to face the audience. "Goodness me. We're finally down to our last three districts, folks! Without further ado, please give a welcoming hand to Ruby Samim from District 11!"_

* * *

><p>He can't help but think about how wrong this is. It's not just that children and people his age were kidnapped, not just that they are expected to <em>fight to the death<em>, not just that they are dressing them up like dolls and then sending them to the slaughter. When he sees his twelve-year-old sister dancing across the stage, twirling around like an actress in a play and not like a child getting prepared for death, it's not sadness that grips him - it's anger.

Anger at the Capitol for doing this to his kid sister. Anger at the government for keeping this a secret. Anger at President Mala for just allowing this to happen.

He knows that anger on its own is worth nothing. Something must be done.

* * *

><p><em>Ruby is the tiniest tribute to present herself before the citizens of the Capitol, yet her presence exudes stronger than men three times her size. She's wearing a light teal dress, covered in silver sparkles that really shine when the spotlight hits them, and her hair is plaited in a neat braid down her back. Merope can't even make it to the center of the room; fueled by energy and verve, the young tribute bounds her way over the television host.<em>

_ "What a little ball of sunshine you are!" Merope squeals when Ruby plops herself down into the seat uninvited. "How excited are you to be here?"_

_ "Kinda excited," she chirps, swinging her legs back and forth; her feet are inches off the ground. "Mostly I'm just excited 'cause they promised me an awesome meal if I did well today."_

_ Merope looks a little taken back by her frankness, but is thrilled nevertheless. "Which means this interview is doubly important for you, isn't it?" Ruby bobs her head affirmatively, but her attention doesn't lay with the host for much longer. "How different is it - this place compared to home?"_

_ "There are a lot of lights," she answers simply, squinting her dark eyes at the row of spotlights focused on her. "And food. And… sparkles." Her gaze is fixated on Merope again, but it's more on her clothing than her actual person. "I didn't think people like you were real." She's scrutinizing the hair piled on top of Merope's head now, and the expression she's wearing is a mix between admiration and disbelief. "It's not that bad, though, like all the teachers say."_

_ "What makes you say that?"_

_ She shrugs. "They've been mostly nice. I mean, I eat a lot of food, and they give me nice dresses to wear and do my hair… And the bed they god me is really nice, too - it's a water bed. It's just a lot of stuff I don't have back home. My family's not really rich… Well, I dunno. That's how all of District 11 is like, I guess."_

_ Merope cocks her head to the side. "What do you mean, dear?"_

_ "Living out there isn't that great. It's hot and gross and we work in the fields all the time. There are laws now, 'cause I guess back then they used to make kids work; we can't work until we're, like, sixteen or whatever. But our whole district's pretty poor, I guess. I hear a lot of the moms complaining about it when I go home for breaks." She speaks with such nonchalance, Merope and the audience can't help but wonder if she's at all bothered by the poor conditions of her home._

_ "That's terrible… Doesn't it ever bother you?"_

_ "Huh?" Now it's Ruby who is confused._

_ "Well, that you are so unfairly treated, of course," Merope explains. "The inner districts get such extravagance and wonderful living conditions. Do you ever think that your district deserves more, especially after your government reform?"_

_ Her brow is furrowed when she answers, "I dunno… I guess."_

_ The twelve-year-old can't fully grasp the notion of what should be and what really is, and despite her own more-than-comfortable lifestyle, Merope can't help but feel sorry for the girl. "Well, if you win, perhaps it'll stand as a message to your president, hmm? We wish you the best of luck, Ruby, and hope to see you on this stage in a month."_

_ "Alright!" She perks up immediately, as though the serious conversation had never taken place, and jumps to her feet. She shakes Merope's hand with enthusiasm before she goes skipping off the stage, blowing kisses to the audience on her way to the exit. _

_ Merope is smiling when the camera returns to her. "Such a lovely girl, isn't she? We can't stop there, though - there's one other tribute from Agriculture. Please welcome Hawk Riley to the stage!"_

* * *

><p>"Turn that shit off," Dacker growls as he thrusts open the front door. "We're lucky he's finally out of our hair. He's always been a good for nothing-"<p>

"He's your _son_," his wife protests, desperate and angry all at once. He says nothing more, but the way he storms out without so much as a glimpse speaks volumes. Halli, both emotionally and physically exhausted, drops down into the chair and holds her head in her hands. "You'll be alright, Hawk. You always are," she whispers, but her attempts at reassurance can't stunt the tears in her eyes.

* * *

><p><em>The older male takes on a more laid-back persona as he joins Merope on stage, simply raising a hand in greeting to the audience who cheer for him. She waits for him in the middle of the platform with a small smile, then extends her hands to him in salutations. "Welcome, Hawk," she says. "Thank you for joining us today."<em>

_ "It's not like I had much of a choice," he responds, with no real malice but instead a smirk. "But thanks, I guess." The two take a seat next to each other, and from where he's sitting, Hawk can now fully grasp the size and volume of the audience. "Geez. Did you squeeze your entire civilization in here? I don't how you guys can breathe, you're packed in so tight over there." They chuckle at his soft jibe. "Though I probably shouldn't say anything. It's like that back home, too."_

_ "We got a small glimpse into District 11 with Ruby earlier," Merope explains, "but I think we'd all be very interested to hear it from your point of view. Is there anything else you'd like to add?"_

_ Hawk looks as unconcerned about the question as Ruby had. "Not really. She hit it pretty spot on, to be honest. We're pretty poor, pretty cramped, not as well off as you'd think we'd be after all the reforms and stuff. Sometimes not everyone gets a lot to eat, and it's hard because there are a lot of big families with kids like Ruby. I'm an only child, and there are only three of us in the household, but even then it's difficult to keep everyone fed enough to be considered healthy._

_ Still, I learned at an early age there's no point in complaining if you're not gonna do anything. So, honestly, when I'm home, I can manage." He's smirking again, but this time there's a hint of mischief behind it._

_ Merope's eyebrows raise questioningly, and she leans forward to learn more. "Oh my. What did you do?"_

_ "I guess there's no point in keeping it a secret since I'm here now," he comments with a bit of resignation. "Me and my dad don't get along. I'll just go ahead and say that he's an asshat, and I gotta apologize to my mom for leaving her alone with him. But I couldn't sleep well at night when I was a kid, usually 'cause I was troubled or whatever and my relationship with my dad didn't help. So when I was seven, I started sneaking out of the house and just wandered around - and I saw that a lot of the richer residents tended to just leave things sitting out at night."_

_ "Is that how you got that scar?" she asks, motioning to the long, jagged line of discolored skin stretching down his forearm. It can easily be seen, as the sleeves of his forest green dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows. _

_ Hawk snorts. "No. I got that from falling out of a tree while harvesting food. Honestly, stealing from them was easy, and I never really felt bad about it."_

_ "And what about now?"_

_ He scoffs loudly. "Hell no." The crowd laughs at his confident reply. "I know the whole 'class' thing doesn't exist anymore, so they say, but there's something wrong when a family of eleven is living off one bag of rice and the field watchers are eating their weight in ham and turkey. Don't get me wrong - I don't like you guys." She winces at his bold statement. "And honestly, you haven't done much to disprove what the textbooks say, but I don't think we're all that much better."_

_ "W-why would you say that?" she stutters, trying to gather confidence in order to continue sitting across a tribute who has blatantly expressed his dislike for her._

_ "You'll hear different things from Districts 1, 2, 3, and 4, but the further you get away from the center of the country, the worse it gets. They won't admit anything's wrong because they're living it up. They've got the favor, but we're just agriculture. We just pick food, and we come in abundance. They'd shoot me for saying this back home, but things are exactly the way they used to be, sans your crazy ass President Snow."_

_ "Though you don't seem to be fond of President Mala, either," she throws in._

_ He disregards the mention of his country's leader with a shrug of his shoulders. "Maybe not, but like I said, there's no use in complaining if you're not gonna do anything about it. Same thing with these… Hunger Games. Yeah, I'm pissed, but if I just whine, I won't get home. I need to get home if I ever wanna help my mom."_

_ Slowly, Merope manages a smile. "And, hopefully, your mother will be able to welcome you home a month from now. Good luck, Hawk." He politely shakes her hand before walking off, both hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. "Phew." She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. "Now that we're done with District 11, on to District 12! Come on out, Thistle Black!"_

* * *

><p>When you're still a teenager, it's difficult to admit that when your parents are strict, they just want the best for you. When you're a parent dealing with a teenager, sometimes it's hard to remember how difficult it is, as someone who's still trying to figure out their place in life, to have you yelling at them.<p>

Mazzy Black has shed no tears in the past week, not even when President Mala herself showed up on her doorstep to apologize. Other than wanting to throttle the woman who had the nerve to show up (and only her husband knows about this, because she told him later), she has experienced no real emotion. Even right now, she sits at the kitchen table, her eyes blank.

_"… Thistle, how are you doing today?"_ Joe scrambles up to the small television perched on the counter in order to turn up the volume. He steals a glance at his wife, and though he notices the water gathering in her eyes, he says nothing.

* * *

><p><em>Thistle is very uncomfortable on screen, as illustrated not only by his lack of words, but also his body language. He sits hunched over in the large chair, with his elbows resting on his knees. Though he is quiet, his eyes are constantly traveling, searching for something.<em>

_ "You're not a very talkative individual, are you?" Merope asks, not teasingly or mockingly._

_ "I dunno, would you wanna talk to your kidnapper?" he snaps, sharp eyes glaring daggers into her small form. She sits back, slightly taken aback, but she's already dealt with uncooperative tributes, so she's not afraid. Still, the grimace he wears is less than friendly, and it's obvious that it worries her. "Sorry," (he doesn't sound sorry at all), "but I'm not interested in your glitz and glammer show."_

_ You'd have to look closely to see her hands twitch in her lap. "I hear you were quite the prankster back at school and at home," she continues on, trying to override his harsh words._

_ "It's not like I ever wanted to go to school," he mumbles fidgeting with the sleeves of his navy blazer._

_ "So you caused trouble for your teachers in the hopes of being sent home?" She's smiling, trying to get him to crack, but the grimace he wears won't budge. "They never really worked, though, did they?"_

_ "I got close enough once. The school just exists to make my life hell, though. My mom was so excited when she heard I could go; sent me off as soon as she could." He folds his arms across his chest and leans back, allowing himself to sink into the seat. "I have no use for school, though. I don't need it."_

_ For once, Merope hesitates with her own question. She's unsure if she'll be able to get an answer out of him, and she certainly doesn't want to be embarrassed on her own stage. Nevertheless, she figures she might as well try. "So how do you think you'll fair in the Hunger Games, then? Do you think your knack for pranks will give you the upper hand against your fellow classmates?"_

_ A moment passes, and she starts to think that questioning him is useless. Just when she's ready to dismiss him from the stage, however, he speaks up: "It's not like I've got much to go back to. I could care less about that school, and it's not like I have any friends. My mom might be happier to know I'm gone, too." A look of sadness creeps onto Merope's face. "The kids need to go back more than I do."_

_ "You've got a soft spot for the children, then," she states, not asks, and smiles softly._

_ His defenses are back up instantly, and he snorts. "Whatever."_

_ A quiet ding rings from the back, causing Merope to jump up. "Oh! It looks as though we're out of the time. Thank you, Thistle, and I wish you good luck!" He doesn't even shake her hand before he trudges off stage, shoulders hunched and arms crossed irately. "Let's see our female tribute from District 12, now: Rain Clomb!"_

* * *

><p>"Sssh ssh shhh!" Stephan does his best to quiet down the room full of children, and quickly they obey, sitting beside him in silence. The children huddle around one another, wanting nothing more than to keep each other company, as they watch the larger television Stephan brought over from his own home. He turns up the volume and adjusts the antennae before taking a seat behind them. "Look," he whispers. "There's your sister."<p>

* * *

><p><em> Rain looks dazzling in the one-shouldered yellow dress, with her hair pinned up elegantly with white flower clips. Despite how beautiful she looks, though, her body language betrays her discomfort in the extravagant clothing. "You are truly stunning, dearest," applauds Merope when the redhead from District 12 joins her. "I'm sure you're not used to this get up, though I think it suits you wonderfully."<em>

_ "No, definitely not," she affirms. "Even if I had the money to buy clothes likes this, I probably wouldn't ever wear 'em. I don't really have use for them, and I guess I'd just feel stupid wearing a dress while I was working."_

_ Merope tilts her head. "Working?"_

_ "Well, when I'm not in school," Rain explains. "My parents are dead, so I have to look after my brothers and sisters; I've got four of 'em."_

_ "What do you do when you're in school? I'm assuming you're the oldest out of all of them, right?" Rain nods. "Then surely your siblings are too young to work while you're away. How do they fair? Or do you already have enough savings to keep them fed and clothed during the school year?"_

_ Rain is slightly overwhelmed by all the personal questions about her family, so her answers are shaky. "I, uh, yes. I mean, I try to make enough on breaks to keep 'em comfortable, but sometimes it's too much and…" She swallows thickly, tries to compose herself. "Well, I've got a really great friend back home, and he helps a lot. He's kind of like their big brother."_

_ Merope grins slyly, which results in Rain's immediate weariness. "Ahhh, a good friend, hm?"_

_ "What's with you people trying to make a romance novel out of everything?" she snaps crossly, brow furrowing in distaste. The audience, who had been 'ooo'ing up until that point, instantly quiet down and sink back in their seats. Stephan is my best friend, and everything he's done for me and family is beyond what words can say. I'm not gonna let you guys romanticize it and draw it up to be something it's not. I don't want your pity because I'm a girl in love looking to reunite with her lover."_

_ "Oh no, dear, that's not what we're looking for at all," Merope objects. "We're just looking for an insight to who you are, and the people around you and those most important to you help make you who you are. Clearly family is very important to you - and so is this boy."_

_ "He practically is family," she cuts in stiffly, a deep frown carved into her face._

_ "I understand." Merope smiles gently, but Rain is already on edge, and it's unlikely she will open up to her again. "Well, for the sake of yourself and your family, I wish you the best of luck in the Hunger Games," she concludes, standing up to bid the tribute goodbye. Rain won't even put her hand in the host's, though, and she practically stomps off stage after kicking off her heels into the crowd. Trying to calm down the screaming coming from the front row, Merope knows she has to regain control of the show. With each tribute that comes on, things slowly start to slip, and she's not sure how much she can handle._

_ Merope wipes the disbelief and fear from her face as soon as the camera refocuses on her. "Well then! We are finally on our last District, though we've got another four tributes to go through before we're done. Let's give it up, then, for Allegra Grimstone!"_

* * *

><p>Blood is strong, they say. When no one else is there for you, family is.<p>

Allegra knows, though, that no one back home in District 13 is watching her on TV right now. No one is waiting at the phone, hoping that someone will call and say they've rescued her. No one is worrying about her, crying over her, wishing for her to return.

Allegra knows that, while she has a family, she is truly alone.

* * *

><p><em>She may not be as (openly) rebellious as the most recently interviewed tributes, but Allegra definitely is not a girl of many words. Her green eyes are narrowed, creating a rather frightening expression that makes it difficult to appreciate the beautiful auburn curls or the pretty silver dress. Even perky Merope isn't quite sure how to deal with the enigmatic teenager sitting beside her.<em>

_ "So, Allegra," she begins carefully. She can't help but tense when Allegra's harsh gaze focuses on her. "You've been calm through this entire process, I've been told. How do you do it? I mean, you're so young."_

_ The following silence has Merope wondering if she's talking to a helpless case. She isn't allowed to retract her question, however, because Allegra finally answers. "You only need to be worried if you've left something behind."_

_ Merope holds her breath before continuing: "You've no one waiting for you back home?"_

_ "No." The response is almost too quick, so that even the audience is too stunned to react. Most disturbing is the fact that her face is completely emotionless; there are no tears, no signs of anger, no hint of hurt or betrayal. She bears the same fierce expression she's had on since she first walked on, but there is an air of nonchalance about her. There is something almost admirable about the way a girl can say she has nothing and not feel a thing._

_ "But it's made me stronger," she says, before anyone can shower her with pity or sympathy. "And I have nothing to hold me back. I'm going back home for me - not anyone else."_

_ It's unusual to see someone who is so against familial and friendly bonds. The audience is awestruck, unsure of whether they should applaud for her or simply fear her, and the slight smirk that appears on her face implies that this is exactly what she wants._

_ "You're going in with the intent to win, then," Merope states, deciding to act in lieu of the first choice._

_ "Duh." The confidence exudes from the mysterious girl, of whom so little is known despite the three minute interview. The crowd follows in Merope's stead and slowly begin to clap as she stands up to dismiss herself._

_ Merope takes her hand, pleased to find that Allegra's handshake is very firm. "Good luck, and we look forward to watching you in the Games, Allegra." The auburn-haired female doesn't spare a second glance for the audience or the television host, but walks off with her head held high. "Gee-whiz! One down, and three more to go!" She throws her hands up into the air, drawing a loud whoop from the citizens of the Capitol. "Let's get this show on the road, then! Please welcome Phoenix Kade!"_

* * *

><p>To grow up in a normal place, with normal parents and a normal family, with normal people surrounding you. For some children, it's exactly what they want, and for others, settling is alright. For the children of District 13, however, it's always been difficult. Refraining from colors and excitement and rebellion - such a lackluster childhood almost inspires them to get away from the "normal" lifestyle.<p>

Jayde and Coronis know their son hated his life in District 13. They know that he was enthralled when he received the acceptance letter, than he didn't look back once when it was finally time for him to leave. They also know that someone like Phoenix was meant to live a life of excitement, that he couldn't continue living in such a restrictive place.

Still, they can't help but wonder: would they still be watching him on TV if had stayed home, where he would still be safe?

* * *

><p><em> Merope is relieved when the next tribute walks across the stage, grinning, laughing, and waving both hands at the crowd (who are just as thrilled as she). "Hey!" he greets Merope, shaking her hand enthusiastically. "Thanks for having me here."<em>

_ "No, no, sweetie, thank __**you**__ for being here," she gushes, cheeks flushing from happiness. "You look absolutely wonderful, by the way. It's like that suit was tailored just for you!"_

_ "Uh, well, it was," he snickers, "but thanks. My prep team let me know on several occasions that I was the perfect mannequin." He stands up to strike a pose worthy of a professional model, earning some laughter from the Capitol citizens. "Thanks Fannia, Libo, Septimus - you guys are the best!" He shoots a wink and a couple of guns to a small section in the crowd, who shout back at him._

_ "You are out of control!" There is a combination of joy and excitement in her voice. "Have you always been this outgoing?"_

_ "No, I underwent a personality surgery when I got here," he explains, with his lips pressed together and nose scrunched up. "I didn't think I'd be able to fit in with you people. I mean, look at you all! Look at me! The body surgery would've been too much, though, and I'm just a kid…"_

_ Merope guffaws as she slaps his thigh playfully. "Just a kid! As if! You can't be any younger than eighteen"_

_ "Seventeen, actually," he corrects, holding up a finger. "See? I've got the flushed cheeks of adolescence." _

_ She can barely contain her giggles now, while the audience is roaring with laughter. "Stop it, stop it! Oh gosh, I'm tearing up. Goodness, I'm blaming you for ruining my make up." She runs the back of her finger underneath her eye, catching a tear before it can streak the red blush on her cheeks. "Alright, you clown," (he grins), "how did you end up in a place like this?" _

_ He quirks a blond eyebrow. "Uh, you brought me here on a yellow bus?"_

_ She waves her hand at his answer dismissively. "No, no, smartie pants, that's not what I meant. What I mean is, what brought you to the school? You're from District 13, right?"_

_ "Hey, you're the one who introduced me," he teases, earning a faux stern look. "Alright, alright, I'll give you a break. But yeah - I grew in a normal home (er, cell, I guess) in 13 with my folks and younger sister. My childhood was good, I wasn't neglected or anything, but it just wasn't for me. I couldn't handle all the rules and how everything was just so stagnant all the time. Also, white really isn't that refreshing of a color when it's all you see every day."._

_ "You make it sound so…"_

_ "Unapproachable? Unlikable? I mean, yeah, some people like it, but for me it was…" He grimaces exaggeratedly. "Yeah, I was definitely excited when I got to go to the Academy. Hair gel just isn't for me and the white suits reminded me of the ones people wear in insane asylums, and I swear, I was going craaaaazy in there. But hey! If it sounds like something you'd like, I hear they're giving a two for one deal at the hotel this weekend."_

_ "Ooo, a salesman. And who wouldn't go for that with this little doll selling it?" He opens his mouth to protest ("Doll?"), but she's already standing up and pulling him up with her. "Phoenix, I wish I could keep you here forever, but unfortunately, your time is up." Both pout. "Phoenix Kade, everyone!" He bows, and so does she, and he shakes her hand one last time before bounding off the stage. "Two more to go, folks, and I know you're on the edges of your seats! Without further ado: Lila Waters!"_

* * *

><p>It's been a while since "I love you" has been a part of this household. It's always been cold and particularly empty, with the lack of warmth that usually comes with a home. Even for District 13, it's unusually plain.<p>

Neither time nor work wait for Peacekeepers, and military personnel must always be on duty. Even if they're at work, though, even if she's patrolling another district and he's leading a meeting, they make sure to keep a small ear piece in. The radio is small, easily hidden on their bodies, and while they go about like they do every work day, their hearts and attention are no longer fully in it.

* * *

><p><em>This one's quiet, though definitely not for the same reason as Allegra or Thistle. Her air is confidence is so great, Merope can't help but feel slightly stifled. Lila leans back in her seat, with one leg crossed over the other, both her arms splayed out over the arms. Her lithe, fit form is dressed in a lovely emerald green dress with an asymmetrical design and black high heels. The fiery red hair is lightly curled and pulled halfway up, so that the yellow tips carefully frame her face.<em>

_ "You look beautiful," Merope compliments, hands wringing in her lap._

_ "I know," is the immediate response, though it sounds bored. "They kept throwing me into these different dresses; they made me try on like thirty the other day. I guess it's nice I get to try on pretty things, though." She looks at her manicured nails without any real interest._

_ "You mean you don't really get the chance to?"_

_ Lila's chortle is loud and mocking. "Oh please. I forget, you folks've never been to District 13, so you can't possibly know. Phoenix has already told you about how gross and boring and stifling it is. No color, no nice clothes, no sexy clothes, no fun - just rules, white, white, restrictions, rules, more white… Hell, if my parents ever saw me in this, they'd blow a gasket. My dad'd make me run ten laps, minimum. The commander isn't very sympathetic."_

_ "Your father-"_

_ "Commander Gregory Waters." The name is obviously very familiar, to both her and the audience, and they are stunned into silence. "And my mom's a Peacekeeper. Dunno her rank or anything, if they even use those, but even so - I wouldn't know. I haven't talked to her in over two years."_

_ "You don't go home on breaks?"_

_ "Hell no," she answers abrasively, face grimacing at the mere thought. "I would never go back there voluntarily. My dad tries to force to come home during Christmas, says it's special, but all we do is buy turkey and talk about my hair color." She begins playing with the ends of her hair as she recalls the memories. "Control freaks, the both of them. They hate that they can't see me at school, can't monitor everything I do. I know it drives them crazy."_

_ "You don't sound very concerned or guilty," Merope notes._

_ She shrugs. "They gave me a great education, even before I went to the academy. Everything they did, though, everything they wanted me to do - I always did the exact opposite. I could never live up to their expectations, so I never bothered to try. I think they hated me for it." Her tone is hollow. "Early morning training, lessons late into the night… My dad's always wanted me to join the military. I'm only sixteen - I don't know what I wanna do with my life. And I hate that I have someone trying to define it for me."_

_ "It almost sounds like you prefer the Capitol to your own home," Merope jokes, but by the look on her face, Lila doesn't seem to disagree._

_ "Feels more like home than home ever did," she mumbles under her breath, though it doesn't go unheard. "At least you guys feed me more than protein bars and water. Shit." She drops her hand into her lap, bored with pretending to be enraptured by her near painted nails. "Are we done here? This is a pain."_

_ "O-oh, yes, if you want it to be, I mean, it's your-" Merope isn't given a chance to finish her sentence before the hotheaded female stands up and walks off, without sparing a second glance at anyone. "Oh. Well. A-alright, then." She clears her throat awkwardly. "We are on to our final tribute for the night, folks, can you believe it?" The audience howls with cheers, filling the studio with sound once more. "Let's not make him wait any longer, hmmm? Join us, Catcher Hollowind!"_

* * *

><p>"Camphor." He doesn't turn around when his name is called, pretends he can't even hear the screaming or yelling coming from the television in the center of the room. "Camphor, he's on." Switch tugs on his older brother's sleeve until he finally looks down at him. "Aren't you gonna watch?"<p>

Without replying, the Hollowind boy turns his eyes to the screen. His gaze is hard, accusatory even. _"If you weren't so laid-back. If you paid more attention. If you took things more seriously."_ When he sees the familiar figure of his brother, his eyes soften.

* * *

><p><em> It may be the fact that he's the final tribute, but Catcher's incredibly popular with the audience. Some people are even standing up to clap for him, while others howl as they pump their fists into the air. He's a little taken back when he first walks out, but a small grin gradually crawls onto his face, and he waves to them in a friendly fashion. "I guess I've got a lot to live up to," he chuckles, reaching out to take Merope's hand.<em>

_ "Oh, just a mere thirty-one," she teases, "but don't let that intimidate you."_

_ He laughs heartily. "Don't worry. I don't let very many things intimidate me."_

_ "Ooo, a brave, strong man," Merope coos. "You'll protect me, won't you?" She bats her long eyelashes at him._

_ "If you need it?" he returns, holding back a laugh. "But I feel like I'm the one who'll need protection in the end. Unless you'll be joining us in the arena as well?" Merope gasps, appalled at the idea, and he chuckles. "No, a lovely lady like you shouldn't ever have to fight for her life." They can't tell if he's being sincere or if he's just mocking her, but she smiles anyway._

_ "Speaking of the arena," she continues, not wanting to go off on an awkward tangent, "do you happen to have any idea as to what it may be this year?" She's wearing an eager look, and from looking around the audience, so are they._

_ "Yeah right. They don't tell us anything other than when to wake up and who to meet," Catcher replies airily, fiddling with the cuffs of his golden brown shirt. "We'll find out when you do."_

_ "I guess that would ruin the surprise," she reasons, even if she looks unhappy. "Do you think you'll be ready?"_

_ "I don't even really know how to answer that," he admits with a simper. "I mean, I grew up with two older brothers, who taught me some basic survival skills. We didn't really need to use it back home, since there was never any real trouble, but… I dunno. One of my brothers was really big on 'being prepared for everything.' He'd probably tell me 'I told you so' now if he could."_

_ "Did you not get along?"_

_ "You can't tell?" He laughs, though there's a hint of bitterness to it. "Nah, Camphor and I… We don't have the best relationship. Family is family, of course, and it's even more important since it's just me and my siblings, but he's never really hesitated to let me know what he thinks of me. We don't exactly see eye to eye, and he isn't exactly the most supportive guy around. It happens, though, I guess."_

_ "That's very unfortunate," she sympathizes, frowning._

_ "Yeah, but what can you do? It's not I'm gonna give up just because I'm not best friends with one of my brothers. I've got two other brothers and my twin sister to look after - I can't leave them now." He bears a grin that nearly stretches across his face. "So I'll see home just yet."_

_ "And we'll be hoping for the very best for you," she says sincerely, standing up. "Good luck in the Games, Catcher, and maybe we'll see you soon." He smiles tightly, but shakes her hand, and departs from the stage. He makes sure to throw in a couple waves to the crowd before he fully disappears._

_ Merope, now standing alone on the center of the stage, sighs heavily as she places both hands on her full hips. "Golly gee, I can't believe we went through thirty-two tributes. But now it's all done and gone, and we're all missing them, huh?" She takes the screams as an affirmative answer. "Well, you're in luck - we'll be seeing them all again soon enough, and in one month, one will be back here, on this very stage! Until then, happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"_

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Stripped" - Shiny Toy Guns<p>

* * *

><p>Holy jamalama, this chapter took so long (it's a staggering 13,000 words ayeyayay). I didn't realize how many tributes I had until I got halfway through this chapter. XD Still, I am very excited to continue reading this, and I love you all so much for your reviews and support! You truly are the greatest. :) And remember to vote for your favorite tributes on my profile page.<p>

Hope to see you all soon!

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	8. target practice, pt 1

Author's Note:

And the winner's of our polls are… **Altair Osriel **and **Skyloh Hemmington**! Congratulations! As I promised, both will be receiving an advantage when the Games finally begin, though what it is remains a secret. ;) As suggested by Trapped in Narnia, I will **now be accepting requests for alliances** since this chapter covers training. You may want to wait, though, since this is only one part of training. Now that you've gotten a look at the personalities and skills of each tribute, you've got insight on who you might want to pair your tributes with. (You may PM me if you'd rather not have it publicly viewed.) Choose wisely.

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Seven  
>Target Practice, pt. 1<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "The Ruler and the Killer" - Kid Cudi<p>

* * *

><p>Seven days. It's been an entire week since the capture. Hawk makes another mark in the set of tallies above his head, stares at it with a mixture with fury and resignation. He keeps track of the days because it's the only way to keep him rooted, the only way for him to remember that this is no nightmare - this is real. With each passing day, the dread in his stomach festers, until he almost wants to just <em>stop<em>. With each passing day, he remembers that he will die.

It's a mind-numbing concept, he's realized, accepting and thinking about his own death. All humans are mortal, but it has never been more real, and he knows that, more than anything, he is afraid. He'd be a fool to say otherwise, and he can only feel pity for those who are trying to convince themselves that everything is going to be alright.

"You're up already?" Ruby yawns widely as she stretches her arms, trying to work out the morning stiffness.

He leans back, with his head against the wall, and closes his eyes. "I haven't really been sleeping lately."

She nods wordlessly, agreeing. Sometimes when she stirs awake in the middle of the night, she can see him sitting up, moving around, rolling onto different sides. Sometimes she hears him talking quietly to himself, trying to reason with and calm himself. It worries her somewhat; she's known Hawk for a while, and he's always been laid-back and calm and cool. "What do you think we're gonna do today?"

"Now that they're done glorifying us like show pets," he says bitterly, "they'll probably get us ready for the slaughter." He flinches at his own use of words, while Ruby sinks into her teal-colored comforters. "Man…" he mumbles, looking around the elaborately decorated room. Banner definitely had not exaggerated when he said they would refurnish the rooms. "This is the nicest room I've ever slept in. Too bad it still feels like a prison."

As if on cue, the television in their room flickers, immediately earning their attention._ "Good morning, tributes!" _From the safety of her cocoon of blankets, Ruby snarls at the smiling face of their PR manager. _ "I hope you've slept well, for there is quite a day awaiting you. Now that you have been introduced to the people of the Capitol, we must prepare you for the Hunger Games. Today is your first day of training. I am not in charge of this aspect, however… The Gamemaker isn't very fond of talking via television signals."_ He chuckles. _"After breakfast, you will be escorted to the training rooms, where he will finally formally introduce himself. Good luck, tributes."_

* * *

><p>A quiet, yet excited buzz fills the dining room, where all thirty-two students are crowded as they eat breakfast. "I wonder what they're gonna make us do," Phoenix muses as he prods at his bacon with a knife. "I mean, this whole thing is the real deal now, isn't it? No more shiny suits and dyed hair…"<p>

"You definitely enjoyed that, didn't you?" Korra chortles, almost mockingly.

His brow furrows at the poorly disguised insult. "Well, it's not like you went storming off, either."

"Surprisingly," Catcher adds.

"It's not a matter of what I'm actually like or what I really wanted to do," she explains disinterestedly. "It's a matter of making an impression and making sure they remember me - which is exactly what I did." She looks pleased with herself as she cuts into her steak. "You, on the other hand, ooze attention. If you're not the center of attention, you might as well be dead."

"Hey, there's no need to go that far," he protests, a frown twitching at his lips. It's not like he can deny it completely; he is fond of attention, and he likes knowing that he's appreciated. All the same, this isn't the kind of situation where attention-seeking is a particularly _bad_ thing. "We're all playing the same game, Korra. Making an impression is definitely important, like you said, so who cares if I'm more genuine about it or not? It's gets us both to the same end."

Catcher sighs, already disliking the tone of the conversation. "Let's just drop it, guys. The interviews are over and we have more important things to worry about." Phoenix glances in Korra's direction, but all she does is roll her eyes and continues eating. "I'm not sure if I should be nervous or scared or what…"

"You read a little about the Hunger Games last night, didn't you, Kate?" Rea asks the brunette, shifting the attention to the other end of the table.

She flushes, still unused to so many eyes on her, and keeps her own gaze focused on the nearly empty plate in front of her. "In past Hunger Games, tributes had to go through many different stations in order to prepare for the arena," she says, voice quiet. "They ranged from survival stations - like lighting fires and finding food - to combat stations - like learning how to wield a sword, shooting arrows, etc. They didn't go into very deep detail, but training always led to a final score issued by the Gamemaker and his panel."

"So they're going to be watching us the entire time?"

Kate shakes her head. "No. Training is for the most part private, since tributes should use those days to hone their skills. At the end, each individual tribute goes into the room and performs what they think is their strongest attribute. Afterwards, the scores are displayed on TV; it gives the Capitol citizens an idea of the strength of each tribute. The scores range from 1 to 12, and the evaluation, they say, is the most important pre-Games factor."

"Because a good evaluation means a high rating, and high ratings lead to sponsors," says Oliver, answering the question everyone wants to ask. "The interviews were and are important; as we all know, everyone loves a good television personality. However… The Hunger Games are about survival, and the strongest are expected to come out on top. Sponsors will be fleeting to those who are projected winners."

It hits all of them at that very moment, how very real the Hunger Games are. Today, they will be trained to kill each other, and in the end, they will see who will most likely come out on top. In one month, thirty-one of them will be dead, far away from home.

"I'm not hungry," Lana announces, pushing away the full plate of food. No one comments; their untouched plates say enough.

When their escort arrive, they have been sitting in silence for nearly twenty minutes. "Jerico is waiting for you," says the authoritative female whose face is painted white. "Please come this way." The students of class 7-A follow wordlessly, each individual still wrapped up in their own thoughts. "The training room is through this door." She presses a button on the side of two large steel doors, which slide open so that they may walk through. Once inside, Terra gasps.

True to Kate's description, the large room is cut up into small sections, each displaying a different necessary skill. On the wall closest to them are weapons ranging from spears and swords to throwing knives and smoke bombs to quivers and arrows. From their position, they can also spy small cans of paint at another station, an area covered completely in leaves, and groupings of berries.

It isn't until the escort clears her throat do they shift their attention to the front - and when they realize they are not alone. Beside her is a gaunt-looking man dressed entirely in black, from neck to toe. What really keeps their scrutiny, however, are not the thin, spider-like fingers or his baldness, but the fact that three quarters of his face are wrapped in bandages. His left eye, so light blue in color it is almost white, peers down at them in pure condescension.

"Welcome." There is no sense of mockery or sarcasm like there is in Banner's words; Jerico's greeting is completely cold and unwelcoming. "As I'm sure Banner has already informed you, today you will begin your training. There are fifteen different stations, each with an important skill that will help you in the arena."

Jerico doesn't even blink in her direction when Mykal throws her hand up into the air. Keldon nudges her, whispers about this not being a time for asking questions, but she brushes him off. "What _is _the arena?"

"You will not discover the details until the day of the Games," the escort answers. "Though you may know that Jerico has worked particularly hard on it."

"Yeah, that makes me feel loads better," she mutters impatiently.

"How you spend your days here in the training room is entirely up to you," he continues, as though she had never spoken, "but remember that brute strength isn't everything. These Games were created to test you emotionally and psychologically, as well as physically. Also, I can guarantee now that at least seventy-five percent of you will die from natural causes." His gaze lingers on a small patch of students who have lived in luxury their entire lives. "Pay attention to everything, and make use of your time. From here on out, your life is in your hands; don't be stupid with it."

Jerico turns to the escort, and she bows deeply at the waist. He nods, then departs without sparing a final look in their direction.

She claps her hands together importantly. "Lunch begins at noon, which gives you four hours. Training will commence at two, so make use of your break time to rest. The day ends at six, in which there is dinner, then you will retire to your rooms. Training lasts a total of three days, including today, and the schedule will remain the same, unless an adjustment needs to be made." She looks across the crowd, with none of them being able to full meet her eyes. Without any sympathy, she waves them off. "You may begin."

* * *

><p>"I don't think you're holding that right."<p>

Riley blushes, absolutely embarrassed, as she drops the longsword. Altair chuckles apologetically, leaning down to pick up the weapon. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that. But you're not supposed to hold it like a baseball bat." He puts the sheath in her hands, wraps his larger ones around hers to give her guidance. "Hmm, this one could be a little too heavy for you, anyway, though…"

Something quirks at her lips as she looks up at him through her eye lashes. "I'm not weak," she pouts, jutting out her lower lip.

He grins lopsidedly as he steps away, putting some distance between them. "Ah, I didn't mean it like that…"

Near them, Allegra rolls her eyes. _"What a real charmer,"_ she thinks disdainfully as she pulls back the arrow. She narrows her eyes, sees only the target, and releases - right in the center. Allegra smirks, pleased with herself, but it falls as soon as she hears clapping.

"Wow, it's like you've been using a bow and arrow for years," Altair compliments.

It'd be polite to say "thank you," but Allegra's never really been a "thank you" kind of person. On top of that, it's almost like he's thanking her for having a skill she could possibly kill him with, and she wants nothing more than to smack him for his prolonged ignorance. She scoffs, choosing to dismiss him, then grabs another arrow and aligns it along her quiver. She carefully aims one arrow after another after another.

"She's got the right idea about it, I s'pose," he says to Riley, walking over to the wall of weapons.

"What, being rude?"

"No." He smiles sadly. "Complimenting and sucking up to each other isn't going to do us a whole world of good out there, is it?" Riley notices the nervous twitch of his hand when he reaches out to touch the blade of a throwing knife. "I keep thinking, maybe this is a dream, you know? Maybe I'll just wake up from this nightmare, wake up in my room, hear Zook snoring from across the room."

"Altair…"

He quickly shakes his head, ridding it of the stream of thoughts. "Sorry about that. I'm really bad when it comes to zoning out and daydreaming. Yikes, I better get to work…"

It's rare to see Altair with his guard down like that, and even if he's always been one of the easiest people to talk to, Riley has never perceived him as vulnerable. His movements are unsure and the pain on his face has settled in; she can't imagine him taking the life of another, even if it's in self-defense. She wants to cheer him up in some way, but she remembers that this game is a competition, and he is her enemy.

* * *

><p>Zook identifies the edible berries from the poisonous ones in under one minute, thoroughly impressing the overseer of the station. "Damn," Dahlia murmurs in admiration, picking up the berry he calls Nightlock. "I didn't know you knew so much."<p>

He looks at her with exasperation, slightly offended. "Geez, Dolly, I know I don't get the best grades in class, but-"

"No, no, that's not what I meant, stupid," she interrupts, rethinking her choice of words only after she's said them. "No, I mean- Ugh, I'm trying to compliment you!" He laughs as she flushes, probably more out of frustration than anything, and slaps his shoulder. "We didn't learn any of this stuff in school. I can't tell a blueberry from a little round fruit that'll kill me two seconds after I eat it."

He shrugs, casually reaching to snatch the Nightlock away from her. "A friend back home gave me this book that had all kinds of information about berries and herbs and stuff," he explains. "I thought it'd help my mom." He begins prodding at the blue mat underneath them. "She likes a lot of the stuff I find more than the food they sell at the supermarket, since it's fresh and the stuff they sell isn't exactly first class."

Dahlia hesitates to make a comment. Even if she and Zook are close, the topic of his mother is one that is seldom brought up. She's always been the most open about her emotions and feelings in their small trio of friendship, but Zook and Lana have never really worn their hearts on their sleeves. Zook, especially, has never been prone to bringing up his family life in casual conversation, and neither she nor Lana have ever really pressed him about it. They know of her condition, of course, but asking for more always seemed so… intrusive.

"You look like you wanna say something," he says, wearing an affectionately teasing grin.

She wants to ask more about the mother he loves so much, but ultimately decides against it. In a couple of days, they could both be dead (she starts feeling nauseous), and she doesn't want one of their last conversations to be one of discomfort. "Yeah, just that I wish you'd had that book with you now," she says finally. "It'd definitely help me out. Lord knows I can't hunt worth anything, but I'd probably have a better chance at catching a rabbit than berry picking."

He reads her like an open book (she can tell by the way he scrutinizes her), but he doesn't pry. "Well, I don't think it'd help you much, anyway."

"Why not?"

The atmosphere lightens considerably. "Oh please, Dolly, you haven't read a book on your own in years. Are you even literate anymore? I mean, there are pictures, of course, but the _words_ are kind of important…"

"You ass!" she shrieks, kicking him over from their sitting positions on the floor, but he just rolls to the side and guffaws. She picks up a handful of fruit and ogles at them uselessly before chucking them away, one by one. "Frickin' berries. Whatever."

* * *

><p>River looks up at the high bars with reluctance as Skyloh carefully but skillfully makes her way across. "That's really high," she mumbles, fingers shaking at the prospect of having to do the course. "I think I'll do something else…"<p>

"It'd be unfortunate if you had to cross something like this in the arena with no prior experience, though," Joel says beside her, even if he too is wearing a look of disdain. "We can never know what they'll throw at us. It's important to take something from each station, even if it's just a small dose." His reasoning sounds good enough, but it's done nothing to River's desire to actually want to step up and do it.

"They don't even have a net or anything underneath to catch us if we fall," she protests. Her gaze moves up and down, taking in the height of the fall. "That has to be a twelve foot drop, at least. No way, no thank you, goodbye." She merrily skips on over to the weapons station, where she picks up a small sword without any hint of hesitation.

Joel breathes a small sigh, but he can't really blame her for her reluctance. If anyone were to fall from that height, they'd surely break something, and he thinks that maybe a little inexperience in climbing is better than going in with a broken bone. "You make it look so easy," he says when Skyloh hops down from the ladder on the opposite side, looking excited and triumphant.

"Well, I gotta do a lot of climbing back home," she answers airily, as though it's no big deal at all. "And if you can't get high in the trees, you're not gonna do that well in District 7. Right, Luke?"

"Absolutely!" he shouts, easily swinging from one bar to the other.

The color drains from Joel's face as he watches, gasping and nearly fainting when one of Luke's hands slip. Luke is tall and strong and muscular though, and it doesn't take much for him to recover and finish the obstacle course. When he lands and walks over to Skyloh and Joel, there isn't a hint of sweat anywhere on his face. "Phew! It's been forever since I've been that high. It almost feels like home!"

Joel looks between Skyloh and Luke, who chat animatedly about lumbering and high trees and shared acquaintances back home. He quietly slips away, completely unnoticed, and takes a seat in a hidden corner where no one can see him. It's become particularly hard to breathe and think, but all he needs is a couple moments to compose himself.

He has always been mature beyond his years, both in intelligence and mentality. His mother liked to point out that his mind is always working, always thinking, always searching. He's not cheerful and upbeat like Ruby, but his preferred quiet has allowed for his growth. But then Joel remembers that he's just _twelve_, that he has a mother who still kisses him every time he leaves for school, that he has friends who like to tease him, that he still hasn't completely grown into his body yet.

He remembers he's still just a child.

Watching Skyloh and Luke talk with no reserves, no fear or resignation, makes him wonder if he's doing something wrong. He's supposed to be brave, isn't he? He's supposed to think positively, that everything will be okay, that sooner or later President Mala will come and save them all. But Joel has always been smart, and even if he's not particularly brave, he knows better than to depend on "what if"s and "what could happen"s.

When Thistle finds Joel ten minutes later, the dark-haired boy is staring at the opposite wall with a blank gaze. "Hey, you alright?" he asks carefully, crouching down so that they're at eye level. "You don't look good."

"Sorry," he apologizes automatically, but rather than looking relieved, the small dent in Thistle's brow deepens. He feels silly now, allowing himself to get so worked up, and hopes that no one else has seen him. "What happened?" he asks, indicating the small line of red on the older male's face.

He grunts as he raises calloused fingers to the shallow cut. "The netting I used for one of the traps was really sharp. I was just being stupid." He sighs as he stands up, then offers a hand to Joel who blinks before taking it. "You should take care of yourself," he says, concern laces into his caution. "Don't let anyone think you're weak just because you're a kid, alright?" He walks away before Joel can say anything, but he realizes he probably wouldn't have said anything anyway.

* * *

><p>Lewis watches with awe as Mattheo creates a shade of green identical to the leaves he's using for inspiration. "How do you do that?" he asks incredulously, unable to pry his eyes away when Mattheo begins coating the color on his arm.<p>

"I've always had a pretty good eye for color," he answers, unable to hide how proud he is as he recreates the leaves. "I didn't ever think it'd come in handy like this, though. D'you think I'll just be able to stay camouflaged the entire time?"

"If you make stuff like that quickly enough, definitely." His gaze moves from the deep greens to the bright yellows to the musky grays, to the brilliant color sitting on Mattheo's skin. "I wish I could do something like that."

"Hey, you're pretty good with the swords. I saw." He dips his brush into the gray and begins to add more depth to the color. "We just gotta do our best and play to our strengths. I'm not good with weapons - Terra couldn't stop laughing when I dropped the handle of the mace on my foot - and, I dunno, maybe hiding is the best I can do for myself and others…" Lewis knows Mattheo could never hurt another person, and the serene expression he wears can't fully mask his worry. "Did you see Lila with the duel blades? You'd think she'd been training with them forever…"

"It probably helps that her mom's a Peacekeeper and her dad's in the military," Lewis adds, carefully dipping his brush into the water. "She's probably more fit than all of us combined." He glances over at the weapons station, where the redhead in question has begun eyeing a different sent of blades.

"I dunno, the guys from District 7 are pretty fit," says Oralee, before pointing out that he's used the wrong shade of yellow for highlights. Cursing, he tosses aside the ruined mixture and begins another, making sure to keep a close eye on Mattheo. "Did you see Skyloh and Luke going across the bars earlier? Of course, they did practically grow up in the trees… I saw Mykal doing sprints around the track, too, and she's really fast. I didn't get to see Keldon with the axe, but I feel like it's in the blood of all District 7 kids to be able to use one."

Lewis sighs as he eventually gives in and lets Mattheo create his mixture for him. "Shirking off the gym all those times is finally coming back to kick me in the butt."

"Well, it's not like this is something any one of us expected," she reasons, smiling sympathetically. "Beside, like Mattheo said, you were pretty good with the sword. You can pick things up fast, and that'll definitely help you." She dips her brush into the perfect replica Mattheo created and tests it on her own skin. "I'm really just worried about the kids, though. I just… I want to make sure they're all safe."

"You've always been best with the underclassmen," says Mattheo, "but you tend to forget that you're a kid, too. You need to watch out for yourself, too, Ora."

"You're only a year older than me," she retorts, noticing that Lewis says nothing because he is the same age as she.

"Yeah, but I'm not playing second mom for a group of fourteen and twelve year olds. You know they look at you like that, especially since some of them don't have very dependable parents back home. Just think, Ora, if they lost you in there; they'd be devastated. Just remember to take care of yourself, okay?" As someone incapable of malicious intent, she knows Mattheo means only best, even if his words aren't entirely eloquent.

She hums quietly in a sort of agreement, but doesn't raise her eyes to meet his.

* * *

><p>Terra shrieks when the flint and rock go flying out of her hands for the fourth time in a row. "I'm sick of this!" she declares dramatically, standing up so she can kick the dry wood that has yet to become a campfire. "I wasn't <em>built<em> for survival, okay? This is why we created electricity and heaters."

Oliver sighs at her theatrics, relights his fire for the second time in a row. "Yes, but we're not exactly allowed to bring in heaters or electronics." She doesn't bother to listen to him, though, choosing instead to stomp over to the ropes course. "I always imagined hypothermia to be a terrible way to die."

"You shouldn't say that," Jorden scolds softly.

"That woman said that most of us would die from natural causes, and it'll be her own fault if she doesn't learn how to deal with it," he says pitilessly, his gaze carefully following the growing flames. He pulls his legs up, tucks his chin against them, and takes in the warmth he created with his own hands.

Mykal and Jorden shift uncomfortably beside their underclassman, unsure of how to respond. Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. "Well, we know what to do if we need to warm up, but what do we do if it gets too hot and we need to cool down? I mean, I'm sure hypothermia is a terrible way to go, but dying from heat…" She grimaces.

"Well, I figure there isn't much we can do if we're thrown into a desert," Jorden says, brow furrowing. "But… if we can get our hands on some water, it'd help to have a rag or shirt or something to keep ourselves cool. I think I saw that on TV show, though, so I'm not really sure how legit that is…"

She deadpans, unsure if she can take him seriously or not. "Why would I wet a t-shirt when I could just _drink_ the water?" He opens his mouth, ready with an answer, but ultimately decides against it. Sighing, Mykal picks up the pale of sand beside her and puts out her own fire. "Well, maybe I just shouldn't think about it. What are the chances we'll all be dumped into the middle of a desert?"

"Probably the same likeliness that a class of thirty-two kids would be kidnapped and forced to kill each other." They all look up as Rain joins them, nonchalantly taking a seat between Jorden and Oliver. "Hmm, this looks a little more boring than the traps station… Though Thistle's been hogging it for the past thirty minutes." She rolls her eyes at the mention of her district partner. "Did you see guys see Nyle?"

"I saw him at the berry and herbs station station earlier," Oliver says. "He couldn't distinguish a pair of cherries from berries injected with lethal poison."

Rain flicks her wrist dismissively. "No, not that. I just passed by him and he was sparring with one of the instructors; he's really good. Right as I walked by, he decked him hard in the mouth - it was incredible."

Jorden glances over his shoulder in amazement. "Wow, Nyle, huh?"

"Well, in a game of survival…" Mykal trails off.

"It's incredible what people can do when they're desperate," Rain comments as she begins setting up her own fire. "Though I'm sure Nyle's always had it in him. I mean, I know he's quiet, but being loud isn't exactly the sign of a good fighter. I don't know him that well, but…"

"I always thought of him as someone who'd never hurt a fly," Mykal whispers, stealing a glance in his direction as well.

She shrugs. "Maybe. Survival can bring out the best - and the worst - in people, though."

* * *

><p>After lunch and a much needed break, they all return to the training room to continue their preparation. "Ugh, I shouldn't have eaten so much chicken," Lana wails as she stumbles over to the pool. "Working out on a full stomach is the worst." Dropping down to the ground, she rolls up the legs of her pants before sticking them into the cool water; instantly, a sigh of content flows through her lips. "Yesss, the best."<p>

"Do you mind?" Her head jerks up at the sound of Lorea's irate voice. "Some of us actually want to get some practice in."

Too used to Lorea's lack of friendliness to be genuinely insulted, Lana just waves her off. "There are six lanes. It's not like you have to use _this _one. Just look at Cole - he's goin' at it without complaining." Though she glances at the mentioned tribute from District 2, who's already begun his third lap just three minutes in, the Carnet twin scowls anyway. She stalks off to the corner to change behind a screen, muttering along the way. Lana, on the other hand, looks absolutely pleased with herself.

"You shouldn't be too hard on her. She's just trying to get through this as best she can." Lana snorts, unconvinced, while Altair joins her. "And not everyone's a natural swimmer like you, so they actually _need_ the practice. … Save for maybe Cole, but he's practically inhuman anyway." As drawn into his training as he is, Cole glances up at the mention of his name.

"Swimming isn't even that _hard_," she states impatiently.

Rea, who's been eyeing the pool with great hesitation, inches away before walking off to the weapons station, where Drizzle is practicing with throwing knives. Altair, noticing her speedy departure, chuckles. "You can say that 'cause you grew up in District 4. We've been around water all our lives - me, you, and River - so it comes naturally to us. It may not make sense to you, but some people are terrified of it."

"Yeah, well, it's not like I'm great at anything else." There isn't any disappointment or sadness in her voice, but a hollowness that strikes Altair.

"That isn't true," he says sincerely.

"Oi, Altair!" Both look up at the interruption. Hawk is waving over at him from a nearby station, accompanied by an uncharacteristically gloomy Luke. "Come play this strategy game with me! Apparently it's gonna give us a bunch of different scenarios from past Hunger Games, and depending on what we click we'll die or keep going… I already outlived Luke ten times."

"That third one didn't even make _sense_, though, dude!" Luke protests, throwing his hands up into the air. "If I'm hiding from a wolf in a cave, how the hell could I die because a hive of bees fell on me? Why is a hive in a cave?"

"Don't be such a sore loser," he chortles. "C'mon Altair, if I win, you gotta do the obstacle course, and if you win, I get your dessert tonight."

"That's not even a good deal," Altair replies with a roll of his eyes, though he's smiling. "Don't work yourself too hard, alright?" He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder before running towards his friends, who've already begun another round without him. ("Shit, dude, you know I hate this strategy stuff," she hears Luke whine.)

Lana frowns as she shifts her attention to the reflection looking back at her. Then, without taking a breath, she drops into the water, where she feels at home.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Stripped" - Shiny Toy Guns<p>

* * *

><p>Training is over three days, but should only be a total of two chapters. I'll focus more on skills and whatnot next chapter, but I'm still working on character building. :) I've also kind of worked out who will be the first to go (wah D:), buuuut that shall be revealed later on, of course, haha.<p>

Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed - **shimmergirl109**, **shadow bender 7271**, **Rikachan101**, **cassie glitter**, **Secretsx17**, **pie eater 3001**, and **Fishpuppy**. You guys are truly the greatest inspiration for writing, and I wouldn't be here without you. :)

To all you Americans, happy 4th of July!

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	9. target practice, pt 2

Author's Note:

First, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - **Rikachan101**, **Trapped in Narnia**, **Guest** (wah, this new anonymous system is so bizarre), **shimmergirl109**, **cassie glitter**, **pie eater 3001**, **shadow bender 7271**, **Katts**. I adore you all so much and guuuh bluuuh you are the greatest. :)

Now, **this is the last chapter where I will accept alliances**. These are the alliances that the tributes will start out with going into the Games, and will heavily affect how they do throughout. You may PM me directly or the authors of the tributes you'd like to ally with (then let me know). If you'd like to work out a possible romance between tributes, as well, just let me know - it doesn't have to be now, of course.

So, on we go to the final part of training!

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Eight  
>Target Practice, pt. 2<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "The Ruler and the Killer" - Kid Cudi<p>

* * *

><p>On the second morning of training, Kate wakes up screaming. She can still see the faces around her (all twisted, distorted, disgusting faces of her classmates), can still feel her legs aching from running, can still feel the weight on her chest from where they pinned her down, can still feel the steel cutting slicing open her-<p>

"Hey." Nyle is sitting beside her, soothingly rubbing her back. "Are you alright?"

Her lower lip trembles because she remembers him chasing her, trying to kill- "I'm okay." She takes in a deep breath and calms herself, tries to slow the pounding of her chart and stunt the tears in her eyes. She feels her own skin and the warm blankets and Nyle's proximity, and she remembers that she's no longer in a dream. "I'm fine," she says, coming to terms with reality. "I'm okay."

The trembling in her voice makes it difficult to believe her, but Nyle has never been one for prying. "Alright, well… You should probably get ready. Breakfast's already started and training starts in an hour." She nods and he quietly dismisses himself, having already gotten dressed.

When he's gone, she curls up into a ball and buries her face in her knees.

* * *

><p>Terra is a textbook Career - charm, beauty, and natural talent. Rea only knows this only because of her conversation with Oliver and Drizzle from the night before; the two had picked up some books on past Hunger Games and found that seventy-five percent of the victors hailed from District 1, 2, and 4. They were popular with the audience, so they received many sponsor items, and they were skilled in the arena. It's a little ironic, she thinks, that even after a hundred years, the Careers still hail from the same districts.<p>

She watches cautiously as the dark-haired female swings around the sword like an extended limb. It slices easily through the air, circles her body without scratching it, and jabs forward with force. Rea winces at the prospect of being at the other end of that sword.

"It's not that hard," she hears Terra chirp, and there's a hint of cockiness in her sweet voice. Mattheo, who is standing next to her, still looks apprehensive as he shakes his head in disagreement. "Oh, come on. Don't be such a baby. If you're scared of it, it won't do anything for you. You gotta own it, make it know that you're the master."

"You talk about it like it's a person," he mumbles, eyeing it with poorly disguised fear. "Are you sure you've never done this before?" With jittery, unsure fingers, he takes the sword from her hand - and nearly drops it in the process. "Ugh, no, no, no… I really don't need to- Here, take it back. I don't want it."

She turns away from the conversation, which has escalated due to Terra's exasperation. Rea herself is handling a small, hollow shoot of bamboo and a couple of darts. After loading the shoot, she raises it to her lips, narrows her eyes at the target twenty feet away, blows- just barely off center. She sighs quietly as she tucks another dart into the shoot, then blows again and hits the small red dot.

"Bullseye." Skyloh looks genuinely impressed as she stands with her hands on her hips. "Nice work. I mean, I'm okay with targeting and stuff, but not from this distance. I better be careful to make sure you don't get me in the neck or anything, huh?" She's joking, but the atmosphere is too tense and both just end up laughing awkwardly.

"Ugh, Mattheo!" They look over to the other duo, where the female is holding up her right hand to the light. "You broke my _nail_." He utters his apologies quickly, not wanting to create a scene and truly feeling terrible about it. She waves him off, though, stomping towards another station while he embarrassedly retreats to the paints.

"That was a little mean," Rea mumbles disapprovingly.

Skyloh snorts, rolling her eyes. "Everything that girl does is an act. If there's anyone you should watch your back around, it's her." Rea doesn't get the chance to ask her what she means because the blonde is already admiring the variety of axes on the wall of weapons. When she steals a glance in Terra's direction, the girl seems to have already recovered, as she's chatting animatedly with Lewis.

* * *

><p>A low growl rumbles at the back of Lila's throat when the screen flashes red for the fifth time. She's only been able to identify three plants with their correct descriptions, and all of them have been poisonous. <em>"Well, at least I know I won't die from spoiled berry juice,"<em> she thinks sardonically as she restarts the game. Lila would much rather be practicing with the blades she'd spent so much time with yesterday, but Catcher and Phoenix had done a pretty good job of scolding/mocking her for not touching anything else. _"I'll show them,"_ was what she had thought at the beginning of the session, but not it was more along the lines of, _"Screw this. Who cares?"_

Drizzle taps her foot impatiently behind Lila as she waits her turn for the plant identifier. She can already name all of the ones showing up on the screen - she's come across them in her readings over the years - and starts to think that maybe this is just a waste of time after all.

"I can feel you hovering behind me and it's pissing me off." She jumps at the sound of Lila's voice, which manages to sound harsh even without her usual heavy glare. "Don't you have anywhere else to be?" She's focusing too hard on the plants and berries and the words, so that she only manages to get two right until the screen starts flashing again. "God fu- Whatever. I'm done with this." She storms off towards the weapons, probably to let off some steam.

The fourteen-year-old shakes her head at her impatient upperclassman before stepping up to the machine. By pressing the large clear button at the top of the module, she begins the matching game and quickly manages to identify all the plants in under two minutes. Drizzle can't help but look pleased with herself when the screen flashes blue with "GOOD JOB."

"Wow, you're really good." She blushes even though the compliment comes from a girl two years younger than her, but Ruby doesn't notice. "I mean, Zook got it done in like thirty seconds, but you're definitely one of the best. I'm okay at it, but sometimes I still mix up the banana berries with the ones that'll make you vomit if you eat 'em…"

"But you two come from Agriculture, don't you?" she asks, bearing a look of confusion. "How do you…"

Ruby shrugs as she hops onto the pedestal, nudging Drizzle out of the way. "We don't get to eat a lot of what we grow and pick; most of it goes to the other districts and the overseers. What we get depends on how many people we have in our family, but it's only enough for a couple days. We've all gotten pretty good at picking berries in the nearby forests." Her small fingers fly across the module, quickly matching pictures with descriptions. "So it's really cool that you're so good at it. I've seen a lot of the people in class try it, and they're all pretty bad."

"Well, most of the people we go to school with don't have to have this kind of knowledge," she explains, eyes following the images that disappear when Ruby identifies them. "I only know because of the books I've read and my mother's encouragement."

"It's still really cool." One minute and forty-five seconds - that's how long it takes for Ruby to finish the game. "Wow! I beat my score!" Merrily, she skips off to another station after bidding Drizzle goodbye and good luck.

Drizzle's gaze shifts from the departing figure of Ruby (which settles at the tall wall with grooves dug into it) to the blinking machine beside her. She contemplates working it again, until she can finish at an even better time (_"Thirty seconds?"_ she thinks. _"Is that even possible?"_), but eventually decides against it. The Hunger Games begin in two days, and she doubts reserving herself to one or two strengths will be beneficial.

* * *

><p>"I don't know," Phoenix mumbles, apprehensive. "I don't think this is a good idea."<p>

"Come on, dude, man up," Hawk mutters, giving him a small push of encouragement. "Shape up or ship out." Phoenix doesn't look anymore willing to do it despite his attempts, and he shakes his head. "What are you gonna do if you have to fight someone in the arena, huh? Run?"

"Hell yeah I'm running! If Cole's running at me with his fists, there's no way I'm gonna try to punch him out!" The two look over at the boy from District 2, who looks bored as he ices his knuckles, which are only slightly red. "Did you see him knock out Luke?" The mentioned male sits up with a groan, hand over his aching solar plexus. "And Luke is one of the biggest guys in this class. There's no way I'd stand a chance against him!"

Hawk wags a finger at him admonishingly. "Height and size don't always dish out the winner," he says wisely, though the blond is still adamantly shaking his head. "Look, I get Cole is a hardass," (Phoenix can see the dark-haired male roll his eyes), "and he's kicked everyone's ass - except mine, of course," ("Because you haven't even _fought_ him," Phoenix grumbles under his breath), "but you can't just go into this thing being afraid of him. That already makes you the loser."

Phoenix gives him a deadpan look. "I get that you're trying to give me an incentive to sacrifice my life, but it's not working."

"Are you gonna fight or what?" The attention shifts to Cole, who is watching them with a patronizing glare. "Stop wasting my time."

They exchange a look, Phoenix's being much more urgent and accusatory. "Yeah, quit wasting his time," Hawk urges, pushing him into the ring with a harsh shove. "Just don't let him get you in the stomach, and I think you'll be okay," he whispers.

"Yeah, thanks for the advice." The blond doesn't even have time to roll his eyes because Cole's already barreling towards him, fists at the ready. "Holy sh-" He quickly ducks down to the right, narrowly avoiding a punch to the face. "Woah, man, slow it down, eh? We're just practicing, right?" He chuckles, trying to lighten up the atmosphere as he shuffles backwards, but Cole pays his words no heed.

The larger male punches and jabs with such speed and ferocity, it's a wonder how he hasn't managed to connect with Phoenix in the five minutes that follow. Phoenix watches his moves with scrutiny before moving and dodging, but sometimes it looks like he's planned out the move before Cole has decided what to do. This continues for another five minutes - with Cole looking fierce and Phoenix flitting about the ring - with neither looking more likely to win than the other.

"Awesome," Hawk mumbles, eyes following the fighters with amazement.

"Extremely awesome," says Luke, grinning. "Who needs to fight back when you can just run, huh?"

He doesn't look completely impressed by this line of strategy, but the District 11 native bobs his head in agreement anyway. "If you're dealing with someone as big and strong as Cole… Maybe." Cole is getting tired now, exhausted by his own heavy punches and powerful kicks, and though there's a line of sweat down the side of Phoenix's face, he looks as though he could do this for hours.

"Maybe we should stop," Phoenix suggests, his breathing even. His response is an animalistic growl and a swift uppercut, which barely clips his chin. Startled at the contact, Phoenix scuttles to the very edge of the ring, raising a hand to the skin. "Holy hell," he mumbles, both nervous and slightly proud of himself. Cole tries to take this opening and knock him back, but his opponent is already in the other corner, hand still on his chin.

Hawk exchanges a look with Luke. "I hope this doesn't go into lunch."

* * *

><p>When Lana wanders over to the wall of weapons after lunch, she finds Dahlia looking up at them with a mixture of admiration and disgust. "My family's been involved in weaponsmithing since before the Mockingjay's rebellion," she says calmly, back still turned to her. "Joel showed me some of the books he picked up in the library here. A lot of the families in District 2 made weapons for the Hunger Games. Kids were probably killed with things that my family made." She wears a bitter expression, face contorted in pain at her spoken thoughts. "One kid got a trident and skewered the other kids. Another died because she threw an axe and it rebounded - got her in the head, I think."<p>

Lana's lips curl into a frown. "It's not your fault or your family's fault, if that's what you're thinking right now. How were we supposed to know that something like this was going to happen to us? We didn't even _know_ about the Hunger Games until we got here."

Dahlia, who has always exuded self-confidence, looks so distraught that Lana almost mistakes her for someone else. "But we can't just keep using our ignorance as a defense, can we? Look at where it's gotten us. Look at where we are! We're thousands - maybe millions - of miles away from home because these people are angry that we tried to ignore them!"

"This isn't our fault," she insists, eyebrows drawn in. "We're the victims here, Dahlia. Don't give them the pleasure of thinking that you deserve this."

She knows that her friend is right, that her words make sense, but the torn expression on her face displays her reluctance. "Yeah, I guess." She turns her eyes back to the wall, looks over the swords and the knives and the axes and scythes, and her shoulders sink.

Lana knows that the full impact of the Hunger Games and what they truly are have finally hit her, and she's suddenly very scared for her former roommate. "Hey," she says firmly, grasping Dahlia by her arms, "you need to get a hold of yourself, okay? You've been thinking too much - I can tell - and it's really getting to you. You just need to focus on getting out of here, okay? Nothing else." She notices a couple other kids looking their way, trying to get a glimpse of what's going on. "You gotta prove to these guys that you're not weak."

She doubts Dahlia has heard a word of what she's said, though. Her brown gaze is already back on the wall, her smile is so slight it almost doesn't exist. "My dad taught me how to make a sword when I was seven. I was so mad because Jacob was already helping him out in the workshop, but when I yelled at him he just brought me over and showed me how to do it…" Though she keeps her grip on her, Lana says nothing - because she can't think of anything _to_ say. "I almost didn't go to school, you know. I loved working in the shop so much. Even when I decided to go on my own, I was always really jealous of Jacob and Klaus, who stayed behind to work with Dad. Maybe if I had just stayed home…"

"Dolly. Stop that." Lana's command is strong but soft. "You can't think like that, 'cause that's not where you are right now. You're here, and you have something to do." The cloud lifts from Dahlia, but only ever-so-slightly. "You have to go home. _We _have to go home, okay? And we can't do that if your head isn't in the game."

The platinum blonde takes in a deep breath, slowly releases it. "Right."

Lana slowly smiles, and when Dahlia mirrors it, it breaks out into a full grin. "Right. Well, let's get some practice in then, huh? I've been trying to stick to swimming for the past two days, but I'm starting to get pruney, and that just isn't good for my 'super hot girl' image."

Dahlia chortles, all reservations finally pushed to the side. "The cameras aren't on you in here, hot stuff." Her fingers hover over the hilt of a short sword before confidently wrapping around it. "I used to make Jacob fight with me with some of the stuff we made. Dad was so mad when he found out…" She handed the short sword over to Lana, then picked up a spear for herself.

"Uh, you're making me fight your spear with this?" Lana asks incredulously, holding out the weapon for emphasis. "You'll make a kebob out of me before I can even get near you!"

"Well, you never know - in the arena, you could be in this position," Dahlia reasons. "The spear is good for reaching, but if you can get past it, it won't do me much good close range. I have the upperhand here," she says, putting a good amount of distance between them, "but here," she steps forward so that there's only a foot between them, "I can't really do anything. Make good use of distance."

With resolve, both Dahlia and Lana shuffle back and forth, spears and swords at their sides.

* * *

><p>1, 2, 3 - one after the other, Rain's arrows hit the target. When her quiver is finally empty, she lowers her bow and smiles, quietly pleased with her improvement. Out of the corner of her eye, she glances at Catcher, who is still struggling with aligning his own bow and arrow. She contemplates just leaving him be (partly because she still finds it funny when he drops them for the fourth time), but after a while it gets to be too painful.<p>

"You need a stronger grip on it," she instructs, briefly startling him. "Your arrow, I mean." His gray eyes shift from one of his hands to the other, both still fumbling with the weapons; she sighs in exasperation. "You're holding it too loose, so it won't hold against the bow. Pull your arm back more."

Catcher does as he's told, and even if it's far from perfection, he's holding it with much more confidence. "Hey, thanks," he says sincerely, flashing a white-toothed grin. He thinks she might be blushing, but she covers it up well with a roll of her eyes. Muttering under her breath, Rain walks over to the targets to retrieve her arrows. "Easy, huh?"

"You might not wanna shoot just yet," Jorden warns as Catcher aims. "Rain's still over there."

"It's not like my aim sucks that bad, dude." He knows he's wrong as soon as he releases - but Rain is too quick for the poorly shot arrow, and she manages to deflect it with a swipe of her bow. Even if she's safe, her glare from across the small area makes him feel like he's melting in his shoes. "Okay, maybe it's actually that bad," he mumbles to the boy from District 1, who wordlessly nods in agreement.

"Are you stupid!" she snaps, stomping over to him in order to thrust the offending arrow into his hand. "That shot was terrible in two dimensions: 1) it was bad for training because you _almost hit me_ and 2) it would have been bad in the arena because it was no where near the target. Maybe you should stand a little closer next time, hmm?" Shooting him one more look of absolute irritation, she drops her quiver and bow to the ground and leaves the station.

Jorden winces. "Ouch. Talk about harsh."

Catcher shrugs, altogether unaffected by her outburst. "She's taking this way too seriously. There's no way these things could pierce through skin." He prods the tip of his index finger with the point of his arrow, and it does nothing more than leave a small indent in his skin. "See? Crazy girl." Nevertheless, he leaves behind the weapon that's been giving him so much trouble and treks over to the fighting ring.

A dramatic shout sounds through the area, shocking him, but he manages to thrust out his arms just in time to catch the honey blonde who's been knocked out. "Ugh," she scowls, pushing herself out of his arms, "you little brat! That wasn't fair!"

"Yeah, well, life isn't fair, and neither are the Hunger Games," Allegra responds coolly, pushing her auburn hair out of her eyes.

He can see that Riley is baring her teeth when she stands upright, and he notices that her normally pristine hair is tangled. "But that was dirty," she snaps, fists clenching and unclenching in fury. She raises the back of her hand to her mouth; he spots red when she drops it back to her side. "I want a fair fi-"

"Get lost, Princess," the redhead snaps testily, stepping out of the ring. "If you're seriously going into this thing with a 'fair fight or nothing' mindset, you're a lost cause and you're really just wasting my time." Riley's finger nails are just inches from Allegra's neck when Catcher pulls her back, putting a stop to the would-be cat fight. "Ooo, tough girl, huh?" she asks, grinning mockingly.

"I'll tear you to shreds, you vile little-"

"C'mon, ladies, calm down," Catcher sighs, finding it a bit more difficult to restrain the rampaging female despite his bodily advantage over hers. His breath hitches when Riley accidentally (or perhaps not; her limbs are flailing so wildly can't tell tell) elbows him the gut. She only manages a small "sorry" under her breath while she stomps away. "Did you really need to goad her like that?" he demands, shooting a reproachful look at his fellow district member.

Allegra shrugs, completely unconcerned. "I just put out the bait; it's not my problem if she actually goes for it." With a little bounce in her step, she hops away, and Catcher swears he can see her grinning.

* * *

><p>Tensions are high on the third and final day of training. Even River, who's usually running around excitedly, can barely hook a worm on her fishing line - and she's been fishing her entire life. "What do you think we're gonna do tomorrow?" she quietly asks Oliver, who's hands are shaking just as violently as hers, if not more so. "Today's the last day of training, which means that tomorrow…"<p>

"Tomorrow we will be receiving our scores," Oliver answers, voice lower than normal. "And after that…"

"Then we fight to the death." The underclassmen look at Lorea, who's reeling up her first catch of the day. Unlike the others, she doesn't look nervous or scared or anything of the sort; instead, she wears her daily look of nonchalance. They wait for her to expand, but Lorea has never really been a person of words, so they retreat to themselves and leave her be.

"Do you think anyone will come for us?" River whispers, keeping her voice low enough so that she can't be heard by the blonde (though she can't help but feel as though Lorea isn't interested anyway). "I mean, it's been over a week now. They know we're gone, and they've been showing us on TV… You don't think…" She bites down on her lower lip, afraid of her own thoughts. "You don't think that… Maybe…"

Oliver accidentally pricks his own finger, but he doesn't notice it. "Don't say it." He almost looks afraid. "I… Yes, they must _know_, but politicians, you understand… This isn't something that simple."

"Why does it have to be simple!" she shouts. "We're just _kids_, Oliver!" There are tears in her eyes now, emotions from the past week bottling and bursting all in this moment. "They don't have to talk about it! Just give them what they want!" The tears are hot with anger and frustration as she wipes at them, dropping her fishing rod in the process. He shifts awkwardly, unsure of how to respond and slightly embarrassed because so many people are looking their way now.

"I-I understand, River, but-"

"_No_, Oliver, you don't get it! None of you get it! We're fishing and running and climbing trees and playing with swords but we're all gonna be _killing_ each other! I don't _want to die_!" She's sobbing now, and Oralee is by her side so quickly, Oliver has to blink.

"River, hon, what's wrong?" Oralee asks softly, stroking back her hair from her wet face.

She knows this is the wrong thing to ask when River wails and tries to push her away. "Everything is wrong! This is all wrong! All of it!" She directs her bleary glare from Oliver to those at the plant station to those still sparring in the fighting ring. "This isn't okay. This is wrong. This is wrong, wrong, _wrong_, and we're all acting like this is okay, like they can do this to us. But they _can't_ - they _can't _make us do that to each other…"

Oralee pulls the younger girl into a firm hug, looking absolutely heartbroken as she does so. "I know, sweetie," she murmurs, tearing up at River's choked cries and sobs. "I know it's wrong… I know we've gotta do something."

Lorea glances at the heartfelt image when Oliver stands up to awkwardly pat River's back. She snorts quietly as she strikes up her own fire and begins roasting her fish, which have grown in number by three. "Why bother?" she mumbles, admiring the way the flames lick at the skin of the fish.

* * *

><p>Thistle decides that, if it comes to it, he'd rather be eaten by snakes than have to climb the side of the mountain. After trying, unsuccessfully, to get up the manmade wall for the fifth time, he throws his garter and ropes to the side in aggravation. "Screw this," he grunts, folding up one of the ropes that failed to get him to the top. "I don't need this horse shit." When he throws it, it accidentally hits Altair in the gut.<p>

"Oof!" He manages to catch it, but it knocks the breath out of him for a moment. "Oi, be a little more careful, huh, Thistle?" he says, smiling in a friendly manner that no one smiles at him. "Ahh, the wall got you, too, huh? Yeah, I'm definitely no good at this… I was trying to get Hawk to give me some pointers, though."

Hawk shrugs. "What can I say? I've got it all." He looks down at the ropes and garters on the ground with scrutiny. "I don't know what you think you're gonna accomplish with those, though. I doubt they'll just have 'em hanging on a post for us to take if there's something to climb."

"Yeah, well, good luck getting up there without any help," Thistle snaps, gesturing to the tall wall.

Taking that as a challenge, Hawk cracks his knuckles ("All for a good show," Altair mutters) before tackling the obstacle. As spiteful as he tries to look, Thistle cannot completely hide his awe as his upperclassman easily climbs upward, hands and feet working together to move him forward. At one point, Hawk actually has to jump in order to get to the next ledge, but he grasps it easily and continues on his way. It's only a matter of minutes before he presses the button at the top, claiming his prize.

"Well, he certainly does make it look easy," Altair comments with a laugh. "Climbing has never been my forte, as trees aren't a very big thing in my district… On the other hand, if we're all dumped into a pool…"

"Easy as cake," Hawk chirps, clearly very pleased with himself, as he drops down onto the floor. Thistle narrows his eyes, but can't find anything bad to say, so he simply walks off. When Hawk and Altair look at each other, they're both wearing grins. "Well, that was fun. Wanna go for another swim?"

"How could I say no to an opportunity of an easy win?" Hawk punches him roughly in the shoulder, but the two head off towards the pool, laughing heartily.

* * *

><p>"Five minutes and twenty seconds."<p>

Korra's chest is rising and falling quickly, her lungs still trying to refill themselves with air. Keldon, who's holding the small timer in one hand, looks impressed. "Good work," he says, resetting the timer for the next person. "I think that's one of the fastest times we've had for the mile." She waves off his compliments, instantly going to the small rack of water bottles; she finishes one in just a couple of gulps. "Oh! Wow, look at Kate."

The mousy girl who always sat in the back of class, who no one ever really noticed, is easily the quickest one in the training room. It takes only four minutes and thirty seconds for her to complete her mile, and though she is sweating, she doesn't look quite as worn as one would expect. Korra watches her carefully as she joins them and Keldon hands her a bottle of water. "That was amazing," he compliments, grinning ear-to-ear. "I didn't think you could run that fast."

Kate blushes a bright pink, mutters a barely audible, "Thank you."

While Keldon goes on about Dahlia's six minute mile and Lewis's eight, Korra inches away. The fact that Kate is so quiet makes Korra distrust her even more, and she isn't willing to put her life in anyone's hands at this point. She knows what the younger kids - Oliver, Joel, River, Ruby, and even Oralee - are hoping for, and she knows that it's all pointless. A week was not enough time for negotiations, and Korra is sure, more than ever, that they are going into this alone.

No one is coming to save them.

* * *

><p>This obstacle is a little more frightening than the others. It requires great stealth and agility to get past the cameras and sensors which, if they catch the individual, will result in a sharp sting. Timing and strategizing is of the utmost importance, and those with little patience have little chance to make it through successfully.<p>

Small and quick and always one to think before doing anything, Joel is one of two who makes it through to the end. "You're amazing!" Mykal, who'd been zapped just two minutes into the obstacle, cheers. "I mean, we were all expecting Ora to make it through, but she's fifteen… It must be a District 5 thing, huh?" He blushes, unused to so many praises, and ducks his head. "Oh! Lewis - are you gonna try it, too?"

Lewis, who apparently had only been passing, eyes the obstacle course with great reluctance. "It's tempting, but… I'm gonna have to say no. I've heard too many horror stories from Catcher and Luke. I figure it's kinda late to try something so new now, though, so I might as well work with what I know I'm good at. Kudos to you two if you can actually do it, though." He winks at the pair before heading off to weapons, where a group of people are huddled.

"I guess that does make sense," Mykal mumbles, "but I'm sick of running and sprinting, and no one will work the axe with me…"

"I think it's important to at least try the things you're not good at, though," Joel says, watching Lewis's retreating back with a small frown. "We never know what we're going to have to face, and at least then we're aware of our weaknesses."

Mykal smiles fondly at him when she says, "You've always been the thinker."

They both watch Lewis, who has joined the group and is now whispering amongst them. "What do you think they're talking about?" Joel asks curiously. "It's looks pretty serious."

"I'm not too sure," she replies wearily, making a mental note of all the faces she sees. A sense of distrust that she has never felt before boils in her stomach, until she feels almost nauseous.

* * *

><p>Zook finds it increasingly more difficult to concentrate on the little skill he has with knife throwing when there are so many people chattering around him. "It's called adapting to the environment," Lana goads when he voices his complaint. The knife is so off target that she actually shrieks, even if it's no where near her. "Okay, let's say that was in the arena - you just killed a tree. Congratulations!"<p>

He narrows his eyes at her but says nothing, instead choosing to try and focus on the task.

"People are really big into weapons, aren't they?" he hears Lana whisper to Dahlia, who's trying to balance the short sword on the tip of one finger. "The crowd's getting to be a bit much; I think the instructors are gonna start making people move."

Dahlia shrugs. "It's easy to pick something up and swing it around. It's a lot harder to develop skills we're not familiar with." She glances around at the other stations, looks especially nonplussed at the sight of the plants and berries nearby. "Aside from that, it's the final day. People are getting desperate."

The second knife lands two rings away from the red center. "Almost!" Dahlia chirps. "Anyway, I think I overheard them saying…"

Between drowning out his friends and the gaggle of people around him, Zook's focus is shot. All he can hear are snippets of conversation, some more interesting than the others.

"… an alliance."

Lewis, Mattheo, Riley, and Terra are all standing together in a huddle, situated away from the others. They're all wearing grave, serious expressions, so naturally Zook's interest is peaked. Unfortunately, he can barely make out what they're saying because of all the noise.

"I don't know… Lorea might not…"

"… say yes."

"If you come…"

"… I'll talk to her."

The third knife hits the center, and both Lana and Dahlia break out into cheers. Momentarily distracted by the two running over to him, he too rejoices in his feat. When he remembers what had captured his attention so fully, he turns around, only to find that the four have broken apart. _"An alliance,"_ he thinks grimly, before turning to Lana and Dahlia, who look confused.

"What's up?" Lana asks.

"Ah, it's nothing," he replies, as airily as he can, and smiles. Dahlia drags the two of them back over to the wall, goes on about how superior some weapons are compared to others. When he glances over his shoulder and spots Riley whispering excitedly to Terra, something within him jumps, and something unfamiliar rises within him.

It isn't until later at dinner, when he's sitting across from them, that he realizes he no longer sees them as classmates.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Stripped" - Shiny Toy Guns<p>

* * *

><p>I REALLY ADORE WRITING THIS STORY, YOU PEOPLE DON'T UNDERSTAND. You are the greatest support I have and waaaah you are the best. I just <em> s<em>.

Anyway, feelings aside - this is the last chapter for training. Next chapter will be scores (I won't actually write out the private sessions, I think), and then after that the Games will finally start. I'm terrified and excited all at the same time, because I've become so attached to all these characters.

Thank you all again for your support, and I look forward to hearing from you.

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	10. could've, should've, would've

Author's Note:

I cannot _believe_ I'm already on chapter nine of this story; I haven't actively updated a chapter story like this in _years_, and I've never found it so easy to write. Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter: **nudgeriderox**, **Secretsx17**, **Rikachan101**, **Dominae de Machinae**, **cassie glitter**, **Trapped in Narnia**, **shadow bender 7271**, **Katts**, **Fishpuppy**, **Clove25**, **jb's big fan**. I can't believe I'm at 100 reviews! fjsdkfljsdf you guys are just too much.

I've got all the alliances sorted out; I couldn't get everyone who they wanted, but I think you'll be satisfied. So this is the final chapter until the Games finally begin! As a sort of warning: I don't really _purposefully_ do it (kind of sort of), but I do tend to focus on and favor tributes of people who continue to review/PM me and give me support.

But I digress. On we go!

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><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Nine  
>Could've, Should've, Would've<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "The Ruler and the Killer" - Kid Cudi<p>

* * *

><p>Lana's hands are still shaking when the escort calls her in for her session with Jerico and his fellow Gamemakers. She instantly looks to Altair, who's sitting on the other side of her, and he gives her a reassuring smile upon sensing her anxiousness. "Knock 'em out, Lana," he says encouragingly, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. Taking in a deep, calming breath, she stands up and steals a glance at Zook, who is also waiting his turn. After receiving an affirmative thumbs' up, she pulls back her shoulders, holds her chin up high, and strides through the large steel doors. They close with a hollow snap behind her.<p>

Eight of them have already presented their skills to the Gamemakers, some coming out looking more pleased than others: there were those like Dahlia, who went in looking glum and exited with a loud whoop, and then there were those like Terra, who went in so sure of themselves and came out looking quite defeated. Most, Altair was bothered to see, displayed expressions akin to Terra's.

"Rea looked like she was gonna throw up," River whispers beside him, managing to sound both amused and nervous. "What do you think they'll make us do?"

"I don't think they're really gonna make us do anything in particular," he answers. "I mean, this session is for us to show how good we are. We just need to show them why we're best and why we deserve a high score, so it's completely up to us." She looks slightly more relieved, but he notices that there's still a small dip in her brow.

"How long do we have?"

"Up to fifteen minutes, I think. I doubt they think we're worth anymore than that." River detects a bitterness that so rarely presents itself in Altair's voice. When she looks down at his hands, she sees that they're grasping the black material of his training pants; they're white and shaking, much like Lana's had been. "Just fifteen minutes," he mumbles, speaking to himself rather than to her now.

They sit in silence for the next ten minutes, until the doors open and Lana walks out. She looks neither pleased nor displeased, and the grim smile she's wearing tells little about how she faired. "Good luck," she mouths to Altair, after his name is called. Any hesitation he may have is swiped from his face, and he approaches the meeting with the Gamemakers with strong shoulders and a defiant expression.

Twenty-two tributes wait their turn.

* * *

><p>Nobody speaks during dinner later that night. They are all tired, both physically and mentally, so that even eating extravagant food has become a chore. Realization has finally hit them: these Games are real, and nobody will come to save them. In a room full of thirty-two students, in a building full of a hundred people, in a society full of thousands, they are completely and utterly alone.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Good morning, citizens of the Capitol and ardent viewers of Unified Panem! We've all been eagerly awaiting this day, this day that may very well determine the lives of our beloved thirty-two tributes from Class 7-A. They have undergone three days of special training, have met with our Gamemakers, and now they will be issued their final scores. Tomorrow they will be thrown into the arena, but today we shall see just what their odds are!"<em>

Mattheo glances at Zook, trying to gauge his reaction, but Zook's eyes and attention are focused solely on Merope's vivid image on the television screen.

_"Now, for those who may be unfamiliar with the process - just why are these scores and evaluations so important, Runyon?"_

The man sitting beside her has blue-tinted skin and wild orange hair, but most noticeable are his perfectly straight, gleaming white teeth. _"That's the question, isn't it, Merope?"_ The two share a laugh. _"Well, these scores are issued by the Gamemakers after a private training sessions. The tributes show off their best skills, and they are a given score between one and twelve, one being the worst and twelve being the very best. In history, only two tributes have ever received a twelve."_

_ "That's right, isn't it? The Mockingjay and her lover, in the 75th Hunger Games,"_ Merope giggles.

_"Yes indeed. We're not allowed to actually know what happens - that's between the tributes and the Gamemakers. We do, however, get a small idea from the score they receive."_

_ "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get this show on the road!"_

Merope and Runyon's faces are replaced with an image of Jorden, from the shoulders up. _"From District 1, Jorden Biber."_ A large 6 appears over his picture, hovers there for approximately fifteen seconds, then is swiped from the screen altogether. The next one who appears is Terra, smiling charmingly with her long dark lashes and smoldering brown eyes. _ "Terra Rush - 8." _Despite his nervousness, Mattheo looks slightly relieved.

_"From District 2, Dahlia Dunbryll - 9."_ Zook exhales slowly. _"Riley Maryn - 8. Cole Nature - 10."_ He mutters a quiet, yet astounded, "Damn," as he stares into the cold eyes of Cole's picture. _"Pretty typical Career District stuff, isn't it?"_ Merope asks as Cole fades to black. _"Even without the experience their ancestors had, they're still the cream of the crop!_

_ From District 3, Rea - 6. Oliver Winters - 4. Drizzle Ainsworth - 5." _Neither she nor Runyon look particularly impressed by the tributes from District 3, but Zook wonders what they were expecting; two of the three are still underclassmen. _"From District 4, Altair Osriel - 7. Lana Wood - 8. River Matthias - 6. Remember folks, that District 4 usually joins the Career pack with Districts 1 and 2. And quite the contenders they are, eh?"_

There's a bit of shuffling with papers before Merope continues. _"From District 5, Joel Conner - 5. Oralee Roshan - 5. From District 6, Lewis Carnet - 7. Lorea Carnet - 4. From District 7, Mykal Duncan - 6. Keldon Peak - 7. Luke Darkwood - 10."_ Zook looks mildly surprised, but then he remembers how fit and quick and agile Luke is. He remembers what a nice guy he is, how he gets along with everyone, how he has always been someone to be admired. And now, those very skills… _"Skyloh Hemmington - 8. Yeesh, I think we might have to look out for these tributes from District 7; they've got some of the highest scores."_

_ "You know how hard their conditions are out there, though," _reminds Runyon. _"They've gotta be strong and able to climb and lift things. Looks like all that hard work is finally gonna pay off."_

_ "Too true, too true."_ She clears her throat exaggeratedly. _"From District 8, Nyle Grimmsley - 9. Kate Abner - 3."_ Mattheo and Zook's eyes catch each other, both pairs displaying pity; that's been the lowest score thus far. _"From District 9, Korra Blackthorne - 9. From District 10-" _Mattheo breathes in loudly, shakily. _"- Mattheo Shermore - 5."_ He releases his breath, looking neither relieved nor too upset. _"Zook Merrow - 6."_

"Not bad, for either of us," Zook says, trying to smile at his current roommate. He was told that the average score for those who aren't possible Careers is between 5-8. He's in the middle, then, and he doesn't mind too much. Granted, a higher score would be nicer, and both Dahlia and Lana had done pretty well…

_"From District 11, Ruby Samim - 7. Oh my, that's a rather impressive score for someone her age. Hawk Riley - oh! Wow."_ There's a pause, as though she can't believe what she's reading. _"Hawk Riley,"_ she repeats, "_11."_

"Well, he has always been pretty good at showing off, and that's when it mattered," Mattheo says, scratching his head.

_"From District 12, Thistle Black - 5. Rain Clomb - 7. From District 13, Allegra Grimstone - 9. Lila Waters - 8. Catcher Hollowind - 8. Phoenix Kade - 6."_

_ "That's it, isn't it?"_ Runyon asks. _"These are the tributes for the 76th Hunger Games!"_

_ "Oh sugar tarts, I am getting so excited! Well, there you have it folks, all thirty-two of them! You've seen them, talked with them, heard from them, and now you know just how skilled they are. I'm sure you've all got your favorites, so make sure you tune in every day to see how they're doing. Tomorrow, at this time, they will be headed into the arena, and you - yes you - may be what stands between them and death. Sponsors have, on more than one account, saved the lives of tributes. Choose wisely, viewers. Until tomorrow, this is Merope Duncaine-"_

_ "- and Runyon Willendorf-"_

_ "- signing out."_

* * *

><p>The final night before the Hunger Games, the thirty-two students of 7-A dine together as a class for the final time. The sense of unity that had accompanied them on the bus ride to District 1, however, is no longer present. They sit in fractions, whispering amongst one another, barely glancing at others, fearful of those they once might have respected; they sit divided.<p>

"Poor dear," Terra sighs, a slight jeer in her sweet voice. "Scoring the lowest out of all of us… Not that none of us saw it coming, really." She sneers at the sight of Kate, who's eating her plate of turkey alone in the corner. Her perpetually tangled hair is more unkempt that unusual and Terra swears she can see tears in her eyes. "Such a shame."

"You could at least to pretend you mean it," Riley scolds softly. "I heard she choked and was even lucky to get a three. Kate's never really been good with audiences."

"Has she ever been good with anything?"

"Terra!" The named catches Riley's reprimanding look and there's a moment of tension, but the dark-haired beauty eventually shrugs and goes back to her meal. Riley sighs, exasperated, and turns to the others. "But it's good to know we've got such able people in our alliance. We all scored pretty well, except…" She bites back her last comment, not wanting to offend the one individual who is not present. "Well, still, we all did pretty well, so I suspect our chances are good."

Terra raises an eyebrow at Riley's attempt to be polite. "Does your sister even _want_ to be a part of this?"

Lewis looks nervous under the scrutiny. "Well, if you want me to be completely honest, she just wants it to be the two of us." Terra opens her mouth to protest, but he interrupts her before she can throw him out: "But I've already convinced her that it'll be the best for both of us - all of us, I mean. If we travel in a group, we'll have the advantage, no matter what. She's just… She's just not good with people is all."

"Isn't that the understatement of the year," says Jorden with no malice. "I think we're mostly just worried about whether…" He hesitates, for the same reason that Riley did. "Well, about whether or not she may…"

"No, no, Lorea's not like that," Lewis protests immediately, sticking up for his twin. "No, I promise. She's good." Terra certainly doesn't look convinced and Riley manages to keep her concern subdued, but Jorden and Mattheo look pleased. "So…" He lowers his voice. "Do you think there'll be any other alliances?"

"I already know Zook will be sticking with Dahlia and Lana," Mattheo says, keeping his eyes on his mashed potatoes. His fork maneuvers around the dish, never actually bringing anything to his mouth; he hasn't eaten a thing since dinner started. "And I don't know if that really counts an _alliance_ since they're already friends, but… Well, all three of them got pretty good scores, and they trust each other, so…"

"Zook just got a six," Terra says pointedly, unimpressed.

Mattheo's ears turn red and they can barely make out him saying, "I got a five…"

"Whatever, they're no threat," she continues, pretending to not have heard him. "Luke, Altair, and Hawk will definitely be sticking together, but I wonder if it'll just be the three of them…"

"Well, they get along with everyone, so people'll probably be going to them," Riley says, a bit hopefully. A sharp look from Terra dashes her expectations, though, and she sighs. "Yeah, well, having that big of an alliance would be difficult and a bit of a pain anyway…"

"I'm really just worried about Cole, to be honest," Jorden admits, barely gathering the courage to steal a glance in the District 2 tribute's direction. To his surprise, Cole is not alone; Lila is sitting beside him, and the two are casually talking. "He was never that big on talking to me back at school…"

"That's because he didn't _have_ to talk at school. Now his survival is dependent on it," Terra replies airily. "Cole and Lila, huh…?"

While she watches the duo unabashedly, the others continue to discuss possible alliances within their class. "The kids will definitely stick together," Lewis says confidently. "I mean, especially under Oralee, and she's a force to be reckoned with. Really!" he adds when he sees the others' disbelieving looks. "Especially when it comes to the underclassmen, she gets super fiery. It'd be like attacking the cubs of a violent mother bear…"

They all look visibly uncomfortable with the mere idea of attacking someone as small as Ruby or Joel.

"S-so Hawk got the highest score," says Mattheo, quickly changing the subject.

"Dangerous," Riley murmurs.

"Which means," Terra cuts in harshly, determination in her eyes, "he is at the top of the list." Riley tries to smile and Lewis nods his head, but nobody says a thing. Cold-blooded and vicious have never been used to described bubbly and girly Terra, but there is such conviction in her words. While they are unsure and hesitant, she is fiery and ready and they start to believe, some with terror, that she is ready for the Hunger Games.

* * *

><p>They spend their last night before the Games the way friends spend a typical night together. There's no talk of training or the Capitol, of weapons or killing, of feelings of nervousness or fear - just three friends enjoying what the night has to offer them. As they sit on the roof of the tribute compound, underneath the stars hidden almost completely by the city lights, it's almost as though they're back home.<p>

"That was the best turkey I've ever had," Luke says with a sigh of content as he falls back onto the cool surface.

"Have you even ever had turkey before tonight?" Hawk asks with a snort. Luke shrugs, figuring that the factor isn't important enough to take into consideration. "The food has been great, though. I think I've eaten more in the past week and a half than I have in my entire life. They don't really care if I steal food to take back to the room, either, which is definitely a nice change from school. Though I guess that kind of takes the fun and risk out of it…"

"You get your jollies from stealing old bread from the cafeteria?"

"Shut the hell up."

Altair snickers along with Luke, who takes Hawk's punch to his shoulder with good stride. They settle into a comfortable silence, not wanting to take for granted the momentary peace they have. The questions and thoughts loom at the back of their minds, barely suppressed by the desire to live a normal night for what may be the last time. Being afraid, being sad, being anxious: none of it matters right now. In this one moment, everything is okay.

"Hey, Altair." The auburn-haired male looks over at Hawk, who's still laying on his black and staring up at the sky. "Did you ever man up and ask out that girl you like?" His impish grin gives away his answer immediately, leading Hawk to groan and Luke to chuckle. "Are you kidding me? You've like her for, what, fifteen years?"

"We didn't grow up in the same district and I just turned eighteen, so that isn't even possible," Altair reasons good-naturedly, to which Hawk just looks exasperatedly at him. "No, but you're right… I've liked her since my first year at the academy. We were both on Student Council, and I made a promise to myself year after year that I would finally gather the courage and ask her to dinner or the movies. I'm sure she's got a boyfriend by now, though."

"You don't even know _that_?"

Altair's grin is only slightly sardonic. "I liked her, Hawk. I didn't _stalk_ her." His friend mumbles something about "doing it wrong," but Altair brushes him off. "I don't think it ever would have happened, anyway. I always got so choked up around her, sounded like an idiot… She always looked at me funny every time I tried to talk to her after the meetings." He lays back so that he too is gazing upwards. "I was never really great with girls anyway."

"Yeah, 'cause you spent so much time focusing on one girl who thought you were mentally unstable."

"Girls _loved_ you," Luke adds, overriding Hawk's usual (but appreciated) snark. "If you asked anyone in our class out, they would have said yes instantly. Except maybe Korra, 'cause she's kinda just sassy and I always got the impression that she thought she was better than everyone else. And Lorea, too, but she's just scary and you're too old for her anyway… And Allegra, and maybe Lila, and Kate probably would have just fainted…"

"You're not making a very good argument, but thanks for the attempt," Altair says with a light-hearted laugh. "No, I never would have asked out a girl in our class… It'd make things awkward if we ended up breaking up in the middle of the year and had to work together for the rest of it. Remember when Lana broke up with that guy three years ago and he asked to be transferred to another class?"

"That girl has crazy mood swings, so I'd wanna get the hell out of there, too," Hawk comments, nodding at the distant memories. "One second she's playing the mysterious card, the next she's bouncing off the freaking walls. If you're looking for a stable relationship, she's probably not the one to go to."

Altair links his fingers behind his head and draws up his knees, trying to get into a more comfortable position. He smiles, even if it can't be seen by the other two. "Nah, Lana's just… trying to figure out who she is, is all. Just your usual teenage stuff."

"You've just got a soft spot for her," he accuses.

"Hm. Maybe."

Luke sits upright so quickly that stars (the first he's seen tonight) dance before his eyes. "You and Lana?" he exclaims, all the while trying to swat the white spots away.

"We're district partners," Altair says, not really answering the question. "We've known each other for a while. She's a good kid." Luke takes that as "she's like my sister," so he falls back without concern, but Hawk is as skeptical as ever. Altair casually changes the subject. "All I've been thinking about for the past couple of days is how much I'm going to regret - what I did, what I didn't do, what I should do or should have done. I thought of everything I wish I'd said - or hadn't said, especially when it came to trying to talk to Moira - and how I wanted to change things, but… I'm pretty happy. I had it good. I don't have any regrets, not really."

Hawk has half the heart to call him out on his skill of dodging unwanted questions, but it's a warm night and he's feeling particularly giving for some reason. "Yeah, I'm alright. I mean, I wish I'd punched my dad in the face a couple times and maybe I should have tried harder in school, and I wish I could take back telling Terra she was the hottest thing on two legs that one night I got drunk, but… Yeah, you're right." His grin shows off both rows of his white teeth. "No regrets."

They glance at Luke who, for the first time, struggles with words. They know what he's thinking about: the family he's got back home, the other friends at school, the girlfriend he'd do anything for. But finally, he says, with incredible verve, "No regrets."

* * *

><p>River found a packet of cards under her bed early in the morning, so she and the other kids have been preoccupying themselves with card games nearly all day. It keeps their minds off what will happen, gives them a moment of joy and fun that seems alien and unusual under the circumstances. The games are reminiscent of what they'd play back at school when all the upperclassmen went out on Friday and Saturday nights, and they convince themselves that this is just another one of those nights.<p>

"How do you even _know_ how to play poker?" Oliver asks Joel, who looks awfully happy after winning his tenth round. "You're twelve."

"Only two years younger than you," he replies easily, gathering the animal crackers Ruby stole from the kitchens. "My older brother and father taught me. I've always had a knack for card games, I suppose."

"It's almost not fair." Ruby pouts, throwing her losing hand onto the ground. "Ugggh, you should sit out the next game."

"Wha-!"

Oralee stands up very suddenly, her eyes focusing on a figure moving past the doorway. "Hold on, guys, I'll be right back." She runs out of the room, chasing after the shadow, leaving the kids to themselves.

"Weird," River mutters as she inconspicuously leans forward and steals a zebra from Joel's growing pile of prizes. "But yeah, I agree with Ruby. No poker for you next round, Joel." The dark-haired boy looks discontent, but he hardly seems displeased with his winnings. "What do you think the others are doing?"

"Well, they can't go clubbing, unless they've got one of those hidden in here," Drizzle says with a snort. "It's big enough." She shuffles the deck before passing out the cards to the others. Her hands, Joel notices while he's eating a hippo, are shaking vigorously.

"You got the highest score out of all of us," Joel says to Ruby when she picks up a lollipop. "A seven…"

"Y-yeah," she replies nervously, discomforted by the attention that shifts in her direction. "I didn't even do that much, though. I just climbed trees and made a bow and arrow and shot… Hawk got an eleven," she adds quickly, hoping that they'll all stop _looking_ at her like that.

Oliver shakes his head. "They said a seven is a high score for anyone, let alone a twelve-year-old. Most of us scraped by with fours and fives."

"It's not that big a deal," she murmurs, lowering her gaze to the floor. She knows they mean no ill will, but for some reason she feels terrified, like she's being targeted. Was getting a seven really _that_ big a deal…?

"Hey, sorry, I was just talking to Thistle- Hey. Are you guys alright?" Oralee rejoins them, now wearing a worried expression. "Ruby, honey, are you okay? You look pale."

She nods stiffly, unable to fully lock gazes with the motherly girl. Is this what they, they Capitol, are trying to do? To alienate her from her friends and make her feel like an outsider? She saw in their eyes, even if it was only for a moment - the desire, the jealousy. This isn't right, she thinks, that the kids she's gone to school with so many years are looking at her like that.

Her grip around the lollipop tightens, angry and hurt.

* * *

><p>Skyloh is willing to admit that it's jealousy she feels when she sees so many of her classmates grouped together, savoring their final moments of friendship. She's never been unpopular, despite her outspokenness and tendency to voice things that should go unvoiced, but she doesn't have anyone here she'd confide in. For a moment, she longs for that intimacy just so she can have someone to talk to.<p>

"Hey there."

She yelps, jumping away from the corner she's been taking refuse behind. "You," she states accusingly, momentarily narrowing her eyes at a sheepish Catcher. She drops her guard when he waves in a friendly manner, returns his grin with one of her own. "What are you doing here?"

"I came over to ask you the same thing." They both size each other up for a couple moments until Catcher interrupts the moment with a loud laugh. "I really just wanted to see how you were doing. You looked a little lonely, so…"

"I don't need pity," she says defensively.

"No, no, I know you don't," he replies calmly. "I just… I don't think anyone should spend tonight alone." Skyloh is hesitant, and by the way she looks at him, he knows she's trying to find some ulterior motive behind his words and actions. "Trust me." He extends a hand to her, which she slaps away after staring at. To his surprise, she's grinning again.

"Alright, you chivalrous gentleman," she says sarcastically, with a hint of affection and gratefulness. "I'll go ahead and believe that you're not secretly trying to sabotage me, for now."

He feigns a hurt expression. "Sabotage? I don't think I'm even capable of such a thing."

"Yeah, as if." She hops onto the window's ledge, allowing her legs to dangle freely. "It's weird," she murmurs, tone taking on a more serious note, "that all of this is _really_ happening. I've been trying to convince myself that it's all just a dream, but here we are."

"You knew about the Games, though," he replies, leaning against the adjacent wall. "Not like the rest of us."

She rolls her shoulders in a shrug. "It doesn't really matter, if you really think about it. We're all in the same place, in the end, regardless of whether we knew about the Games or not. My knowledge didn't really give me an unfair advantage over anyone." Contrarily, she looks much more distressed, but Catcher decides against saying so. "I'm… well, I guess I'm more afraid since I've known about it longer. I used to have nightmares about them all the time when I was a kid. I know my parents didn't mean to scare me, just wanted me to know things, but… It's kinda sad that my dreams are actually becoming reality."

_What happened in your dreams?_ he wants to ask her.

She sees it on his face before he can even try to hide it. "Every time I died," she answers his wordless question, smiling without really smiling. "In every single one… It was always a different way, but I don't think it really matters _how_ you go, just that you do."

"They were just dreams, though."

"Nightmares," she corrects, "but yeah, I guess. All the same, the fact that it could actually happen, under these bizarre circumstances… It just seems like something out of a horror movie. It's scary and overwhelming, but somehow we've all managed to keep it together. Yeah, there's the occasional breakdown, as there should be, but… Well, survival can make people do the most amazing things." Skyloh leans her head back against the cool window and closes her eyes, as though trying to block out her surroundings. Catcher thinks she might have fallen asleep when she suddenly jumps off the ledge. "It's a weakness, I think, having friends going into the Games. You'll be scared to kill your friends, but you know you have to. You'll want to stick with them, but you'll always have the knowledge that one of you will have to die. It must be terrible."

Her fists are trembling. "But it's gotta be a great strength, too. To have someone by your side, pushing you forward, helping you, begging you to stay with them. When they die, you have more reason to try to win. It's tragic, but kind of beautiful, too, I guess…" Her eyes settle on the nearby trio of Dahlia, Lana, and Zook, but she seems to be looking through them rather than at them. "I was always kind of envious."

"People like you. I don't think there's anyone in class who'd say otherwise."

"There's a difference between being liked and actually having a group of friends."

Catcher watches her thoughtfully, with his hands in his pockets and his head cocked to the side. "Just being liked may be what you need to survive, though," he says, voice dropping in volumes. "People won't want to hurt you, and you won't have that attachment that hinders you from protecting yourself against others. Maybe you're in the better position, eh?"

Neither like thinking about the others in their class trying to hurt one another - seriously, anyway - so they quickly avert their eyes. "We'll see, I guess," she says conclusively. Sighing, she folds her arms across her chest and leans against the wall next to Catcher. "Thanks, by the way," she says after a moment of silence.

He blinks, confused. "For what?"

"It's just nice," she answers, not really looking at him, "knowing that someone still cares even after all this. Knowing that not everyone is sacrificing everything just for survival. It's nice to see someone who's still themselves."

* * *

><p>Mykal wanders around the compound late at night, when everyone is asleep and almost all the lights are off. She can't sleep, not knowing what lays before her, and part of her resents those who can. <em>"Everyone deals with grief and fear in their own way,"<em> she reminds herself as she walks past the large room housing those from District 1. _"And I guess it doesn't really matter anyway. In a couple of days, they're all going to be…"_

She thinks about it, tries envisioning herself _killing one of her classmates_-

She stops walking, swallows thickly, closes her eyes, starts shaking. She thinks about Altair who's always been so kind to everyone, thinks about Mattheo who could never squash a bug on his own, thinks about popular Jorden, thinks about Drizzle, Oliver, Ruby, River, Joel (they're just _kids_), thinks about-

"Mykal?" She gasps, as though surfacing through ice cold water, and realizes that she is no longer alone. Keldon watches her with careful, warm eyes. "Are you alright? I saw you get up, but I didn't wanna say anything since Luke and Skyloh are still sleeping." He's standing so close she can see every detail in the small wooden bear that hangs from his neck. "Hey," he murmurs, "we're gonna make it through this, okay?"

Mykal, who's always been so spirited and independent, looks absolutely subdued. Her dark eyes are tired and worn, not quite brimming with tears as one would expect, but still an image of exhaustion and despair. "I'll be fine," she says, watery smile unconvincing. "I mean, I have to be fine, right? Anything else, and I won't be able to go home to mom and dad and Caden and Caroline, and they wouldn't be happy with that." She's barely holding herself together, he can tell, but she won't let herself crumble now.

She turns to the window, which casts an eerie glow on her face. When he looks down at her fingers, he sees she isn't shaking. "It's okay to be afraid," he says, and it strikes a nerve. "I mean, we all are-"

"Even if I am, it's not gonna do me any good to admitting to it!" He doesn't step back, regardless of her harsh gaze. "Tomorrow we're getting our scores, Keldon, and tomorrow is our last day here. It's the last day. Do you know what that means?" There's a note of hysteria in her voice, a sense that suggests she's still searching for the answer herself. "That means in two days, all of us will be…" She pauses, waits for him to answer, but he doesn't. She shakes her head, unable to find the words, and shifts her stare to the bright lights below them.

"Maybe we can still find a way out. We've just been waiting all this time, but maybe it's up to us-"

"We're just _kids_."

"Hey." He grabs her by the shoulders, maker her look him in the eyes. "We've made it this far on our own, without any help. It'll be hard, and… and I don't know how everyone else'll be, but the two of us - we'll be alright, right? We've gotten through worse." He thinks she might be blushing, but decides it's just the Christmas-colored lights from outside. "Just keep your head held high, and we'll be alright."

Her tense shoulders relax as she soaks in the comfort from his grip. "Yeah, we'll be okay." Even if she can't fully believe her own words, she believes in this moment.

* * *

><p>Sleep isn't an option, strangely enough, despite the day that awaits them tomorrow. Korra hasn't even touched her bed, and she knows that Rea's attempt is fruitless when she dismisses herself to sleep after their walk around the compound. <em>"How can anyone even sleep?"<em> she thinks as she meanders aimlessly through the hallways. _"Knowing what we have to do tomorrow."_ If she does manage to sleep, her dreams will be fraught with terrors and chills, as they have been all week.

"So it's agreed then," she hears from the District 13 room. Not wanting to be seen passing the open door, Korra presses herself against the steel wall beside it, waiting. "The three of of us." It's Lila's voice, and she sounds pleased.

"I don't trust him," cuts in Allegra's voice.

"You don't trust anyone," Lila replies dismissively. "But you're not gonna be any good on your own, not with thirty-two of us out there. It's survival of the fittest, Allegra, and you've gotta adapt." The younger girl snorts, unimpressed, but she doesn't continue to argue. "And it's not like we need a large group or anything. That would probably make us more conspicuous."

"Like the idiots at dinner today. You could tell what they were doing and they didn't even have to say anything. Terra's probably leading it…" She definitely sounds excited now. "We'll be able to track them easily."

Lila snickers. "Yeah, they've got, what, six people running around in a group? Good luck with that." The bed creaks, probably because someone's shifted their weight. "We've got enough to watch each other's back, but can still move around stealthily. It'll be easy."

There are quiet thuds from heavy shoes hitting the ground. "Fine." Korra recognizes Cole's voice. "If we're done here, I'm leaving."

Korra's heart leaps to her throat when the heavy steps move towards her; without really thinking, she darts in the direction from which she came. She doesn't realize she's sprinting, so afraid of being caught eavesdropping, until her legs start to ache. She slows down when she turns the corner, still panting, when she staggers right into oncoming traffic.

"Woah, there," Phoenix cries, barely managing to keep himself upright. "Slow down, will you?"

"Are you alright, Korra?" Oralee asks, concerned, looking up into her frantic face. "You're really shaky."

"Not that that's abnormal," chimes Dahlia, even if she's scrutinizing the offender. "Drizzle's been shaking all night and Kate's been racked with them since the private training sessions. … Hm?" The three of them, including Nyle who hasn't said anything, look up suddenly. Korra feels her entire body freeze. "Oh… Hey, Cole." Dahlia sounds and looks uneasy. "I was just headed back to the room. "

Her district partner doesn't acknowledge her words, just briskly walks passed them. In the second he's beside her, though, Korra swears he was glaring at her.

"Well, that's Cole for you," Phoenix sighs, unaware of the moment of tension. "He's definitely someone I hope to avoid in the arena…"

"I heard you fought him during training, thought," says Oralee. "Hawk was telling us how well you did; he couldn't even touch you!" Phoenix shrugs like it's no big deal, but he can't completely hide his cheeriness upon hearing this.

"I gotta go," Korra mutters, walking right through Nyle and Dahlia.

"Oh! Uh, bye!"

"That was weird," Dahlia comments, after Korra disappears behind another corner.

Nyle shrugs as they continue towards the rooms. "Everyone has their secrets now." Phoenix, Oralee, and Dahlia all exchange a look, which goes either unnoticed or ignored by Nyle, and try not to look too bothered. Secrets are typical amongst teenagers, but when games are involved, they're much more dangerous.

* * *

><p>It's around two in the morning when Rain finally retires to her room and she finds Thistle staring up at the ceiling. His bed is still done, she notices, so he's made no attempt to actually get some sleep. "Hey," she greets casually as she pulls off her boots and jumps onto her own bed. He grunts in reply, which is as friendly as any of his greetings ever get. She takes up a similar position as him, drawing up her legs and laying back so her eyes are upward. "Tomorrow…"<p>

"Yeah." She's surprised when he speaks. "Tomorrow."

There's no point in running around in circles and riddles. It's been bothering her for days, ever since training started, but Rain knows that with the time they have left, she has to be straight forward. "What are you going to do tomorrow? Who are you going to ally with?"

She sees his body visibly tense out of the corner of her eye. There's no point lying or skirting around it; everyone is allying themselves with others, bracing themselves for the impact that is the Hunger Games. They may be children, but even children know how to adapt to dangerous situations. "Oralee came and talked to me earlier," he answers eventually. "'Says she saw me talking to and calming down Joel and Oliver and the other kids during training. 'Said we could work together to keep them safe."

"No one's really safe."

"I know," he snaps impatiently. "But we can keep them as safe as we can, for as long as we can. They should… I don't want them to think they're alone."

Rain stays silent. She knows the feeling he has, of wanting to protect those younger than him, of wanting them to have better lives. She thinks of her younger siblings back home, all of whom are waiting for her to come back. Sarina is fourteen, the same age as River, Oliver, and Drizzle. Ruby is so small, like Dove, and Joel reminds her of Tuck. Rain thinks about how much she wants to go home, how she _needs_ to go home, but she can't erase the faces of the underclassmen from her mind. In order to get home, she'd have to…

No. She can't even think about something so heinous.

The short conversation between the district partner ends before it really begins, leaving Rain to drown in her own thoughts. She rolls over onto her side so that she's facing the wall, glares at it with blood shot eyes. She has to go home, she thinks, but at what cost?

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Stripped" - Shiny Toy Guns<p>

* * *

><p>And that's it, folks! The Games start next chapter! Just so you are all aware, as others have already asked, there isn't going to be a real bloodbath. I do have something planned, but seventeen people aren't going to be killed in one swoop. I guess I'll leave the explanation for the next chapter, though, ha ha.<p>

Also, I apologize to those who may be unhappy with your scores. I couldn't give everyone a high scores, and remember that a high score doesn't always equal a strong tribute. (Aka one Johanna Mason.)

Thank you to everyone who's reviewed and supported me thus far - I love you all so much. :)

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	11. the fall

Author's Note:

In less than a month, I'll be headed back to school for my junior year of college. I'm excited and nervous at the same time, and I'm not quite sure what to expect for this pivotal year. I hope I won't be so busy that I won't continue to update this story, which I've come to really love and enjoy (mostly because of you wonderful reviewers, who have made it possible!), but I promise I'll never give it up. Updates may be more scarce after August 19th, but I shall definitely keep plowing through - hopefully until the end!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: **Guest**, **pie eater 3001**, **Fire at Darkness**, **Clove25**, **cassie glitter**, **Trapped in Narnia**, **shimmergirl109**, **Katts**, **initia nova** (the name change definitely threw me off, but few people write such elaborate reviews like you, ha ha!), **Secretsx17**, **Bubblybubblezzz**. Words truly cannot describe how much I appreciate all of you for your encouragement and support.

So, now we begin with the first day of the Hunger Games!

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Ten  
>The Fall<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "I Want It AllWe Will Rock You Mash-Up (feat. Armageddon aka Geddy)" - Queen

* * *

><p><em>"Good morning, gooood morning!"<em> Merope practically sings from the TV, sounding more excited and cheerful than usual. _"Today is the day and I can barely hold myself together, I'm so excited! For all you late comers and the ones who've been living under a rock for the last two weeks, today is the first day of the 76th Hunger Games. After more than a week of preparation, beautifying, and strategy, our thirty-two tributes are ready to enter the arena. What a joyous occasion it is, especially for us here at in Capitol."_ She's changed her appearance to commemorate the holiday: her high wig has been dyed gold and decorated with large stars, her eye shadow is bright and silvery, her clothing made out of expensive jewels. There are even rubies on the ends of her long eyelashes. _"How long has it been, Runyon?"_

Her co-host has undergone a similar makeover, looking like burst of fireworks from head to toe. _"Exactly one hundred years since the 75th Hunger Games,"_ he answers. _"It must be destiny."_ The two share a laugh. _"I wonder what the Mockingjay would say now if she knew this were happening. That last rebellion had been long and particularly tumultuous, after all, just to a bring a stop to these Games. Do we even have any record of her after her assassination of President Alma Coin?"_

_ "As far as I've been educated, she basically disappeared! The popular story is that she settled down in District 12 after being let go - of course, being the Mockingjay, some amenities must be made, even if it _is_ an assassination - with Peeta Mellark. Still, it's so very romantic, considering that they made it out of both the 74th and 75th Hunger Games together. The two had children, I believe."_

_ "Children! I never thought she…"_

The eccentric voices are drowned out by the chair's painful screech against the ground. Fists slam against furnished wood, scattering papers and knocking over desk decorations. The woman on the other side of the table, however, looks nonplussed. "I don't know what the hell you're waiting for," growls the blond-haired man, his fingers still clenched into tight fists. "You sent your letter and they refused. You said to wait, said that they'd come around, and they haven't. They aren't _going_ to. We waited for the interviews, the training, the scores - and now it's the first day of the Games! This is all bullshit and propaganda and you know it!"

President Mala sighs deeply, as though she's dealing with a temperamental five-year-old rather than a twenty-five-year-old man. "I don't understand how exactly this works as propaganda, Councilman Mellark. It certainly doesn't put me in a good light." She idly runs her finger along the desk, looks pleased to see that it's spotless. "Patience is of the utmost importance-"

"Bullshit," he calls her out again, snarling. "We've waited long enough- too long. What are you waiting for? For Snow to just give in after going through all this trouble? For Capitol citizens to have a change of heart and demand for the release of our kids? Newsflash, President: these people hate our guts. If they could, they'd burn all of us alive. We should have sent a rescue team the moment we knew they'd been captured, should have done everything in our power-"

"I understand your passion, however misplaced it is," she intervenes, her tone sharper than before. "Even if they've been exiled to the Island of Lemnos for a hundred years, we can't assume they're powerless. Obviously not; they managed to pierce through security and kidnap thirty-two children. They must have technology and weapons beyond our imaginations, and you want me to blindly go in fighting? What if I did send a rescue team? What if they were captured, killed, and tortured? What if all the children were killed because of this? I'm sure you haven't forgotten what happened to Professor Porter." He swallows thickly at the mention of her name, terrifying images dancing in his memory because of it. "We have to act carefully."

"That's not how the rebellion was won. It was won with courage and the desire to make a difference."

A stone cold silence is shared between the duo. President Mala holds up a hand, telling the guards flanking her both sides to stay down; Councilman Mellark looks like he's ready to fight anyone and everyone to get his point across, even two large, powerful bodyguards. "As I said, I understand your passion. You are directly descended from Katniss Everdeen, and it's wonderful to see that you've inherited her fire." He can't help but feel as though she's mocking him. "Unfortunately, these are different times, and therefore these are different games to be played and won. I believe I know what's best for my people and my children."

"Don't act like you actually care about them." The punch should have knocked him off his feet and into the door, but he stands his ground and casually wipes the blood from his lip with the sleeve of his suit sleeve. "Too bad you can't supply that kind of power for a rescue team," he jeers, shooting a condescending glare at the guard who struck him. "This isn't the world that Katniss Everdeen fought for in the Second Rebellion. This isn't the kind of world so many people died for - a world where children are blinded and the truth is hidden, where they're punished for the crimes committed by their government. Fire will catch soon enough, President Mala." His bow is anything but respectful, and he doesn't spare her or her guards a second glance as he storms out of the office.

"President Mala?" They send a questioning gaze to the middle-aged woman, who has her fingertips pressed together.

"Let him go," she replies, eyes passive and lips set into a firm, thin line. "He's no threat, and we need him on the Council." Rather than worrying about feeble threats and Katniss Everdeen, she shifts her attention back to the television, where Merope and Runyon are still chattering animatedly.

_"I know you guys are getting antsy; I sure am!"_ Merope giggles. _"I've received word that our tributes are finishing up some last minute preparations before the Games, but they'll be ready to go in no less than fifteen minutes! So if you need to grab something to eat or take your bathroom break, you better get going now, folks! Soon it'll be non-stop action, and you know you'll regret it if you miss just one moment. I've been promised that these Hunger Games will not disappoint!"_

* * *

><p>Riley tries to focus on her breathing as her stylist flits around her restlessly, tending to her hair, adjusting her jacket, tying her boots' laces. She focuses solely on the most basic functions: blinking, breathing, standing, holding her hands in a certain position. It's this focus, and it alone, that keeps her from breaking down. The emotions are welling up inside her, suffocating and choking her, but she knows she can't lose it now, not before what could be the most important moment in her life. She has to clear her mind of all fears and worries, has to stand tall and upright, has to <em>show them<em> that she is stronger than her emotions.

"… do wonderfully." The bright-eyed stylist finishes the fishtail braid, admiring the blonde hair that hangs down her back. It's like it actually matters that her hair looks perfect before she goes to fight to the death. "You got a great score and the audiences loved you."

Despite her merry tone, Riley knows that they're hollow, that she's saying them simply because she has to. Nonetheless, Riley smiles gratefully and nods. "Thank you." Her stylist bobs her head in return, then scuttles off to a corner of the small room. Even with the woman not five feet away from her, Riley feels awfully alone.

After being woken up, fed, and dressed, the entire class had been divided up into their districts. They were each taken to a different part of the compound, then boarded on planes. After a short flight, she'd been separated from her district partners; she assumed the others had to do the same. For almost fifteen minutes now, it's been just her and her stylist, going over strategies, talking about the others, primping her appearance. It's all about waiting, and Riley swears that this is the worst part of the entire experience.

Crackling sounds from the room's speaker system. _"Good morning, tributes,"_ greets Banner's voice. _"Before we begin the games, I must give you fair warning with your instructions. When I give the order, you will step onto the plate in the glass pod."_ She glances over at the strange machine that she's been trying so hard to ignore. _"You will rise up, until you find yourselves in the arena. Then, we will begin the countdown. Do not step off the plate before the number reaches 0 - otherwise you may regret it."_ She can practically hear his smirk. _"In the center of the arena, you will see the Cornucopia. There lies your greatest treasure, your greatest defense, your greatest offense. It will be to your greatest benefit to reach the Cornucopia for the others. Those in charge will have the highest chance of winning the Games."_

He pauses. _"And remember, fair tributes: one month. You have one month to have one victor, and one victor alone, standing. Otherwise, you will all die."_ There's another crackle, and the line goes dead.

_It's happening. This is actually happening. I'm actually going to have to fight-_

_ hurt-_

_ kill-_

_"Tributes, step onto your plates."_

"Go on, lovely, what are you waiting for?" With a grunt, her stylist pushes her towards the glass. Riley is frozen, completely immobile, struck with fear and uncertainty. It's with a shove, not her own feet, that she steps onto the plate. Her hazel eyes widen and dart around with fear as the glass encloses her and all she can hear is her heartbeat and the muffled voice counting from overhead.

_This is happening._

_ This is real._

_ I have to win. I have to go home. I have to win. I have to win._

_ I can't die._

_ I don't want to die._

The plate slowly ascends, until she can no longer see the room or her stylist. She's encased in darkness and she feels blind, weak, and vulnerable. A scream tears from her throat as she claws at the glass, trying to find a way out, afraid that she's going to die in this darkness, that she'll never see light again-

A shuddering gasp escapes her. She can see her classmates standing around her, all wearing weary and bearing horrified expressions. Some of them are shaking, some are visibly holding themselves up - none dare to move from the plate. Riley herself has to bite back a sob when she finally takes in what the arena is: a replication of home.

The buildings are high and the houses are many. Every detail reminds her of her home in the former Capitol, from the slightly crooked stop sign on 2nd and Primrose to the chipped red fire hydrant on 5th to the large billboard with President Mala's face on 1st. The only thing that's missing is the actual Academy, which should be rooted in the very center of the city; in its stead is a large metal object - the Cornucopia. Even from afar she can make out the various items and weapons sitting in its opening.

_"60, 59, 58…"_

Riley's head jerks upward upon hearing the echoing voice. She looks around, unable to cloak her fear, and sees that the others are just the same. Oliver, who is on her other side, looks like he's about to vomit, and she can tell that Kate's knees are about to give out. She sets her eyes forward, trying not to be distracted by the others, knowing what will happen if she allows herself to do so. There's a plan to get her out of this, and she has to stick to it.

_"… 50, 49, 48, 47…"_

Two of them are missing. There are only thirty of them there. Why? Have they already been killed? Did Prime Minister Snow decide to make a show of them by killing them before the others? No, no, that can't be it… The people of the Capitol want the children to kill each other; there's no joy in watching government officials slaughter the younger generation.

_"… 39, 38, 37…"_

She recounts everyone who's there, trying to figure out who's missing. Does it really matter, who, though? That's two less people to worry about, two less people to have to think about killing, two less _classmates_. "Oh God," she gasps.

_" … 23, 22, 21…"_

Altair and Skyloh: they're the ones. She can tell by the flabbergasted expressions on Hawk and Luke's faces that she's correct, at least about Altair.

_"… 17, 16, 15…"_

No, no, no. Now is not the time to think about others. This is about her. It's about Riley Maryn. It's about Riley Maryn fighting for her life and going home and seeing her parents and going back to the way things are supposed to be. It doesn't matter if the others are dead. No, no, no-

_"… 10, 9, 8…"_

This is it. This is the moment. She has to do this for _her_.

_"… 7, 6, 5…"_

Breathe, just keep breathing.

_"… 4, 3, 2…"_

Now.

_"1."_

The pause goes on forever. No one moves.

* * *

><p>The Osriel family watches with baited breath as the tributes remain rooted to their plates. They're all look apprehensively at their neighbors, unsure of what to do, trying to decide whether it's safe to move or if it's even worth it. The mountain of treasure lies before them tantalizingly, promising them a chance at the Games and a possible victory; they've been told what to do and how to do it, but now it's a matter of overcoming something deeper. The moment they touch those weapons, they commit themselves to the Games.<p>

"Altair's not there." Cairoh's eyes are narrow as they search the screen, over and over again, trying to find the head of curly auburn hair. "He's not there."

They're stuck between feeling relief and fear. _Maybe he escaped_, is the first thought. _Maybe he's already dead_, is the second. But the Capitol promised them thirty-two tributes, and it seems unlikely that they would go back on their word now.

"Why isn't he there? Where is he?" Linnea demands, trying to shove her oldest brother out of the way so that she can sit closer to the screen. "Where's Altair?" She looks back to her family, wanting answers, but they look just as confused as she does.

_"I guess I can't say that this was totally unexpected,"_ chimes Merope's voice. _"There hasn't been a Hunger Games in a hundred years, so it's no longer instinct to just run, grab, and kill. It's a bit anti-climactic, though…"_

_ "For all you viewers at home, I'm sure you've all noticed by now: there are only thirty tributes in the arena right now,"_ Runyon explains. Cairoh swallows thickly. _"Polls were conducted in the Capitol shortly after the interviews were held. After casting and counting the votes, the most popular tributes were decided: Altair Osriel and Skyloh Hemmington. The two have been given a great reward - safety from the first day. While the other tributes will be battling it out for the next twenty-four hours, these two will be enjoying the safety of their rooms in the Tribute Compound."_

Aeria gasps shakily, holding a hand to her heart. Her son is safe, for now. "Thank God," she breathes.

Merope cheers. _"What a reward that is! The first day is always the bloodiest. Of course, I'm not sure if that'll be happening this time 'round… They've all just barely stepped off their plates. I doubt we'll witness an actual bloodbath today, which is both a relief and a disappointment, I suppose._

_ "I certainly think it'll be interesting, these Hunger Games,"_ says Runyon. _"We can't just expect people who've known each other and been friends for years to just kill each other."_

_ "The Hunger Games always bring out the worst in people, don't they, though? Remember the games where the brother and sister were reaped, and she killed him in the middle of the night because she was afraid he'd betray her? Tragic, really…"_

_ "Oh yes, and the other Games when…"_

The tales get more grisly, trying to make up for the lack of action on the television screen, but then there's a yell and everything stops.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing!" Rea screams when Terra picks up the sword.<p>

The dark-haired tribute ignores her with a shrug of her shoulders, instead choosing to feel the weight of the sword and how it fares in her hands. Rea steps forward, as though to stop her, but then the blade is between them and the tip is just inches from her throat. There's a collective gasp, but no one moves, afraid of what'll happen. "Don't be stupid," Terra hisses, her beautiful face twisted into a sneer. "What the hell did you expect to happen? To be magically rescued the moment the countdown hit zero? We're in these Games and we have to play by their rules; we've been doing it all week. I'm not going to sit by and just wait to die by their hands."

"So you're willing to kill the rest of us?" she whispers heatedly, eyes watering with tears. "You're willing to throw aside everything we've all had for yourself?"

"Your holier than thou act is pissing me off." The sharp point is right up against Rea's skin now; if she swallows too thickly it'll draw blood.

"Terra," Mattheo gasps, "Terra, please. Stop." Her sharp eyes dart to the pleading boy, who looks more shaken than the girl being threatened. His hands are clenched together and his knees keep knocking against one another, and she swears he may faint on the spot. "Stop."

She looks deep into Rea's eyes, picking out the fear and disgust that swim in their blue depths. With something of a triumphant smirk, she pulls back the sword, finally allowing for Rea to collapse to her knees and breathe freely. "Yes, you'd just love to be made a saint," she taunts, kicking her boots at crumble of cement at her feet. "The first to fall… What a lovely title that'd be."

Korra rushes to her fallen comrade's side, dropping to her knees to make sure that she's alright. Rea's breath is shaky and tears soil her face. "You're out of your damn freaking mind," Korra growls, glaring up at Terra.

The addressed laughs, though it lacks humor. "Oh _please_, Korra. Spare me. Of all people who will be feigning camaraderie, I find it hard to believe that you'd be the frontman." Korra's cheeks blaze red, whether it's from anger or embarrassment. "You're all kidding me, right?" she demands, looking into the disapproving faces of twenty-nine other students. "What the hell did you think we could do in this position? Do you guys remember these?" She pulls down her jacket to reveal the silver collar bound around her neck. "Do you guys remember Professor Porter? I'm not going to die like that!" Her voice is shrill now, lacking the cool composure it had just earlier.

"Maybe we won't have to die like that. Maybe we can still do something," Phoenix protests. "We don't- We don't have to do _this_, Terra." He looks down at the sword grasped tightly in her hand, the sword she's holding onto like a lifeline. "Please, just put it-"

"You're all idiots," she says, stepping away from them. "You're all _idiots_. We're their toys, their play things, their puppets. One press of a button and we're all _dead_. You know this and you're still going on about things like hope and finding some other way?" Her voice cracks. "I'm not going to die like animal!"

He doesn't think about the sword or her hysterical state - Hawk steps between her and the rest of the crowd, grabs her by the wrists and squeezes. When she screams and thrashes, he refuses to let go. "Calm the hell down," he hisses, glaring down into her wide eyes. "I don't care what you've decided before this or what your strategy is. Killing someone is a lot harder than you think, planned or not." He looks physically pained when he says this. "Humans don't die so easily. You may think you can massacre all of us now, but the second you look into their eyes you won't be able to do anything. These aren't just random kids on the street, Terra; these are people you've gone to school with for almost your entire life. Could you actually kill someone like Rea, like Ruby, like Lewis or Thistle? Don't be stupid." He releases her with a push, so that she stumbles backwards into the Cornucopia.

While his speech stuns the others, Terra shakes her head, unaffected. "_You_ don't understand. It's not a matter of can or want. Do you think I want to kill a twelve-year-old?" Joel sniffs and steps behind Thistle. "Do you think I want to kill people I _know_? It's not about that! It's about having to! It's about choosing yourself above others because it's you and you alone! We are completely and utterly alone in this."

_"Attention tributes."_ The voice is loud and echoing above them, around them. _"There has been a slight modification of the rules due to the slow start of the 76th Hunger Games. If a tribute is not slain in the next fifteen minutes, the entire area will detonate. Thank you, and may the odds be ever in your favor."_

There is an outbreak of screams and cries. Students are clinging to one another, sobbing, frantic, afraid. _What do we do, what do we do, what do we do?_

Terra alone retains her composure, her shaking fingers around the hilt of the sword. The others are shouting around her, but she can't hear them; all she can hear is her own unsteady breathing, can only feel the solid material of the sword. The timer doesn't faze her because her life was cut short the moment she woke up with this collar around her neck. _"It's not a matter of can or want,"_ she repeats in her mind, _"but having to. I have to."_ Her feet carry her forward without thought, her hand firmly grasps the sword-

"STOP!" Everything is in full volume again, sharp and too vivid, when she goes crashing to the ground. "What the hell are you doing!" She can't answer because Dahlia is punching her, slapping her, screaming at her, doing everything she can to keep her pinned to the ground-

- and hell breaks loose.

The moment Riley and Mattheo rush to Terra's aid, Lana and Zook jump in, and suddenly there are bodies on top of each other, tearing at each other, hitting each other. It's a blur of bodies and yells, it's impossible to tell one from the other.

Oralee pulls the children away from the brawl, all the while trying to fight back her own tears. "Guys, don't," she pleads, with authority. Ruby, River, Oliver, Joel, and Drizzle watch hopelessly as their upperclassmen punch and kick and knock each other down. They try shouting at them to stop, to think about what's happening, but the tension is too high and everyone is too scared.

Kate backs up, eyes wide and body trembling. "No, no, no," she whispers, shaking her head disbelievingly. "No, I… No!" Oralee calls out to her, but Kate's already on the run. She disappears between two high buildings, never once looking back.

"Is she going to be okay?" River asks Oralee, who's still looking in Kate's direction.

"She'll be fine," she reassures immediately, stroking back River's hair. Her words are empty, but River seems to believe her and that's all that really matters.

A scream tears through the mass of bodies as the crowd splits, allowing for Zook and Lana to drag Dahlia out. On the other side, Terra is barely being contained by Mattheo and Jorden. "I'll kill her, I'll kill her!" Terra screeches, face red with scratches and purple with bruises. Her hair has been ripped out of its ponytail, creating a tangled mane that falls into her face and over her shoulders. Dahlia looks only slightly better off, with a bruised lip and eye, but she's just as livid. "You crazy bitch," she spits.

"Shut the hell up," Dahlia growls, wrenching her arm out of Lana's grip. "What would you have done if I hadn't tackled you, huh? Killed Hawk? Stabbed him? Sliced through him? You're sick."

Ruby runs to Hawk's side, though he doesn't look as roughed up as most of people involved in the fight. He smiles down at her briefly, tussling her hair, then shoots a glare in Terra's direction. "I get that you don't wanna die and I get the survival of the fittest thing you're trying to adopt," he says, as calmly as he can. "But this isn't you. You aren't thinking things through because you're so frantic and because you're so set on one idea. We have to work together, we have to-"

"There is no _together_ in this," Terra says, voice scathing. "I think it is just the _cutest_ thing that you think we can still stick together in this mess. It's like a big ol' camping trip, huh? Except that we all have collars like dogs and we're all going to _die._" Her last word echoes, reverberating through everyone. "You're all idiots."

"At least I'm still human."

There's an unbearable moment of silence, and it's certain that Terra would have tried to kill Hawk were it not for the voice that came on. _"Tributes, you have four minutes."_

"Yeah, let's all just blow up, then," Terra hisses. "That's the way to go, isn't it? Being blown to smithereens?"

"If you just calm down, we can-"

"Stop telling me to calm down! We're all going to die - how the hell am I supposed to calm down!"

"Stop yelling!"

"_NO_!" Terra throws off Jorden and Mattheo, who stumble back helplessly. "One of us has to die." Her voice hitches. "One of us, here, now, has to die."

"We're wasting time," Hawk says. "We could all run from here; it's just this area that's going to detonate. If we all-"

"Who cares! It doesn't matter where we run because we're going to die! It doesn't matter if it's because we blow up or if it's because one of us kills the other," she screams. "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter…" She's found the sword once again, drawn to it. "One of us…" Her dark eyes dart dangerously to Hawk, who shields Ruby with his body and wordlessly challenges her with a glare of his own. Something flashes behind her gaze when the voice calls, _"Tributes, you have two minutes."_

Then Hawk is on his back, with Terra straddling his waist screaming at him. "No!" Ruby yells as Terra attempts to stab him the face. He jerks violently from side to side, barely missing the blade each time, but the third time it manages to slice the skin of his cheek. He growls, jerks his hips upwards so that she becomes unbalanced, and with the help of Ruby's shove, manages to throw her off. Terra tumbles as Hawk shakily gets to his knees, but she's immediately back on the attack, sword drawn, eyes set only on him-

_"Tributes, you have one minute."_

"No, Hawk!"

It's not joy or pride on Terra's face, but horror. Ruby whimpers as her body crumples, the weight of the sword in her abdomen too much. Hawk catches her, his own eyes wide and brimming with tears, as the little girl blinks up at him fearfully. A loud sob sounds from the crowd, with people dropping to their knees and other trying to support their friends. Terra relinquishes the hilt of the sword, steps backwards, looks at the specks of red on her hands and clothes.

"Ruby," Hawk gasps, "Ruby, Ruby, it's okay." He wants to pull the sword from her small, frail body, but her face is white and he knows she doesn't have much time. With pale, red fingers, he pushes her brown hair out her eyes, tries to smile. "It's okay."

"It hurts so bad," she whispers, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Hawk, it hurts. Make it stop, please, please."

"I'm trying, Ruby, I'm trying," he replies softly, taking her hand. It's so small and fragile, fits so easily in his larger palm. "It'll stop, I promise. It'll stop."

"Mom…?" Her eyes are becoming unfocused, her brow furrows, and there's longing in her voice. "Mom… M-Mom..." Her breath comes out in uneven puffs, her lower lip trembles violently, and the color is quickly draining from her face. She's looking up, but not at Hawk or the sky - just up.

Oralee kneels beside Hawk, her face wet and eyes red. "The angels are here for you, Ruby. They'll take you to see your mom now." The smallest smile graces Ruby's face, and then her hand falls lax in Hawk's. "Ruby…?" Oralee whispers imploringly. "Ruby, honey?"

Cradling her head, Hawk carefully lies her down on the cold ground. He pulls the sword from her limp body, tosses it to the side; no one dares approach the blood-stained medal that claimed an innocent girl's life. They watch, in silent prayer, as he sweeps his hand over her face, so that her eyes are closed. Were it not for the wound in her middle, they'd think she was asleep. "Goodnight, Ruby," he murmurs, pushing back her hair and placing a farewell kiss against her forehead.

Terra backs up into Riley, who's trying to stifle her own cries. "I-I, I didn't… I didn't want to… Not her, I…" Terra's body is wracked with heaves and sobs. Her eyes can't move away from the unmoving girl on the concrete, can't stop glancing at the gleaming red of the sword. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to!"

"Terra!" Mattheo shouts, but she runs off. "Terra, wait!" Not wanting to leave her on her own, he chases after her.

Hawk stands up, helps Oralee to her feet, and looks at Ruby's lifeless body despairingly. "This is it, then," he whispers. "We have to choose." He raises his eyes and sees that they're all watching him. "Decide what you'll fight for: yourself or others."

Slowly, the crowd breaks apart. Lila, Allegra, and Cole take off first, each glancing at Ruby before departing. Mykal, Keldon, Korra, and Rea follow in suit, though in another direction, then Rain and Nyle. Lewis, Lorea, Riley, and Jorden all glance in the direction that Terra and Mattheo disappeared, unsure of whether to follow or not considering the circumstances. Eventually, they all leave to seek out the other two in their alliance. After picking up a small first aid kit for Dahlia's injuries and paying their respects for the fallen, Zook, Lana, and Dahlia head to the west, where they will hopefully have solitude.

Oralee and Thistle stand over Ruby, with the kids on both sides of them. "I don't… I don't understand," Oralee murmurs, shoulders still shaking. "Why Ruby…? Why…" Beside her, River hiccups and Drizzle fruitlessly wipes at her eyes. Oliver is white, his lips drawn into a thin line, and Joel looks like he's having trouble breathing. Thistle is the most composed of them all, but even he cannot keep the pain from his face.

Luke places a hand on Oralee's shoulder. "Hey… You're gonna take care of them, right?" She sees Hawk pick up the sword no one has dared to touch and stab it into the ground, erecting it. "We… We'll try to keep an eye out the best we can." She nods, trying to smile, and has never found it more difficult to do so. "We'll do what we can." He looks to Phoenix and Catcher, who nod accordingly. "You guys go ahead. Go northeast; you shouldn't run into anyone. You'll be fine."

"C'mon guys," Thistle says, rounding up the underclassmen. "Let's get going." He catches Oralee's eye, and though she's still mourning, she knows what she has to do. She bids farewell to the remainder of the class, then hurries on. With Thistle in the lead and her in the back, they retreat to what is hopefully safety.

"Let's get going, Hawk," Catcher says with difficulty.

Hawk looks down at the little girl from District 11, the girl who was only twelve-years-old, the girl who never really got to live. His breath is heavy and when he closes his eyes, he can still see her pushing him aside and jumping in front of him. He can still see the blade piercing right through her, can still feel the blood splatter onto his skin. When he opens his eyes, all he sees is a gray sky. "Okay," he murmurs. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Down in the Valley" - The Head and the Heart<p>

_Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways..._

* * *

><p>This was honestly one of the most difficult things I have ever written, and I don't think I've ever cried so hard while writing something of my own. It was terrible because I was writing this in the living room and my family thought I was going insane, ha ha.<p>

So I apologize for any tears I might brought, or any other violent emotions. Thank you for your constant support!

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	12. home

Author's Note:

Sooo, before I say thanks or ramble on about anything else, I'd like to direct everyone to **cassie glitter**'s tumblr (snickers-xo). She's done some art for the story and they're all so lovely. :) You'll need to scroll a bit to see them all, but if you're feeling particularly lazy, I've reflagged them all on my writing tumblr (onlytolive). I always love seeing how people interpret other characters, and hers are wonderful!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, especially those who let me know how the chapter affected them. It means a lot to me as a writer to hear your feedback and reactions. :) Special thanks to **THGfanfirl4life**, **pie eater 3001**, **nudgeriderox**, **HungerGamesrules**, **initia nova**, **shimmergirl109**, **cassie glitter**, **Secretsx17** (x2 since you reviewed both signed in and as a Guest XD), **Clove25**, **Trapped in Narnia**, **Bubblebubblezzz**, **Rikachan101**, **Katts**, **Person**, **fishpuppy**, and **noname**. I always get really excited when new anonymouses and other signed in reviewers leave a message. I hope you're here to stay!

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Eleven  
>Home<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "I Want It AllWe Will Rock You Mash-Up (feat. Armageddon aka Geddy)" - Queen

* * *

><p>At the end of the first day, one canon goes off, and the image of Ruby's smiling face flickers in the night sky. It lingers, and they swear they can hear her laughing when it finally fades into blackness.<p>

No one sleeps soundly, if they sleep at all. Terra is probably still running, still trying to convince herself that this is all just a nightmare, and Mattheo has been forced to give up chase by Jorden, Riley, Lewis, and Lorea, who finally caught up to him. The others have taken refuge in nearby buildings, just hoping to make it through the night.

Phoenix, Catcher, Luke, and Hawk are resting in a fifth-floor office in a replica of the Justice Building. The former two are sleeping, despite their occasional mutters and murmurs, but the latter can't find the peace of mind to slip into unconsciousness. They sit side by side in silence, with their backs against the farthest wall so that they can keep an eye on the door. A chance of attack is highly unlikely, especially since everyone had run off in completely different directions, but this is not the time or situation to be anything less than alert.

Hawk can feel Luke tense next to him. "What's up?" he asks softly, carefully.

Luke is not a quiet guy. For as long as Hawk has known him - years, longer than he's known most people in his life - Luke has always been hyper and energetic and motivated. Now he's subdued, with drooped shoulders and tired eyes, and looks like nothing more than a ghost of his past self. It rattles Hawk to the core. "D'you think Altair's okay?" He's choosing his words and his questions tactfully, Hawk can tell, because the execution is slow and planned. Luke has always jumped forward without much thought.

Then again, so much has changed already. So much more than was thought is at stake.

There's a pang in his chest when he thinks of what happened earlier. "I dunno," he answers truthfully, trying to focus on something else. "Maybe he and Skyloh managed to get away or something… Or maybe they're being held as hostage, for whatever reason." He cringes at the thought, nasty images of torture and blood playing through his mind. "They're both smart, though. Maybe Altair's got a plan, you know?"

An inkling of Luke's former self surfaces with his smile. "Yeah, you're right… The man with the plan." The share a short, strained chuckle. "Man…" Luke sighs as he leans his head back against the cool plaster and closes his eyes. Hawk glances at him questioningly. "It's so much easier to say you have no regrets when death isn't right there, you know?" He's thinking of the night before, of the peace and serenity they were given before being thrown into the pit.

"Can you say it now?"

When Luke hesitates, Hawk receives his answer. "It's different now," is all he says.

It sounds so solemn and so finite, the already heavy atmosphere thickens. Another normal night between friends is out of reach now, the previous night being nothing more than a hopeful dream or a pleasant memory. Hawk gives into the oppression, too tired to fight. "Let's just try and get some rest. We need to be ready for tomorrow." Luke nods and shifts so that he can lay down on the rug-covered floor. Hawk tries to pretend that he doesn't see his shoulders shaking, even in the darkness of the room.

When he lays down, he turns onto his other side so that he's staring at another wall rather than the back of his friend. He attempts to sleep and closes his eyes - he can feel her tiny hands on him, can hear the cut of metallic through clothing and skin, can see the look of horror on Terra's face, can smell the blood, can still feel it splattering against his skin and clothes as her already dead body falls into his arms -

Hawk sits up immediately, golden eyes hard and face white as a sheet. He rubs his hands on his pants, just trying to get the feeling _off. _His palms are still red, not from the blood (_her_ blood), but from all the scrubbing and rubbing he's done. He's poured water on his clothes, over his face and hair, onto his hands over and over again, but it's the feeling that lingers. He wonders, in the back of his mind, if it'll ever go away.

He slowly lowers himself back down to the floor, not wanting to alert the others. Luke's shivers have already subsided, he realizes, giving way to slow and steady breaths that come with sleep. Catcher and Phoenix have stopped moving around as well, and look the most peaceful as they have all night.

Hawk lays on the ground, his eyes on the ceiling, his ears listening to the soft breathing around him. He doesn't close his eyes.

* * *

><p>As the sun rises in the arena, a helicopter appears over the horizon. Inside, Altair and Skyloh sit next to each other, both looking tired and strained. Banner sits across from them, one leg crossed over the other and an indifferent expression on his face. Save for the quiet hum of the engine and the spinning blades above them, they are cloaked in silence.<p>

Once the helicopter stops moving and begins to hover, Banner removes his seatbelt and stands up, motions for the two tributes to follow in suit. "I'm sure you all saw from your rooms, but this here's the Cornucopia," he says, pointing out the window to a large metal structure. "It seems like your classmates are every bit as dull as I thought they were; the spoils have yet to be touched." They see him roll his eye. "It's likely they're all still asleep, so you'll be safe. For now." They are slowly lowered until they're at a height safe enough to jump down. "On you go then."

Altair and Skyloh exchange a look before glancing at Banner. He quirks an eyebrow and smirks. "Alright," Altair mumbles before hopping onto the solid ground, and Skyloh quickly follows. As soon as they step forward, the helicopter soars into the sky until it can no longer be seen.

Standing in the arena, finally away from safety, Altair can't help but feel as though their advantage is just a huge disadvantage. He glances over at Skyloh, who's already rummaging through the pile of goods sitting at the opening of the Cornucopia. He notices, a few feet from her, is a stained sword. Wordlessly, he walks over to it, easily identifies it, and glances around. _"The body's gone,"_ he thinks when his eyes settle on the area near the sword.

"Backpacks will be important," Skyloh says, pulling two large sacks out from the pile. He forces his thoughts away from the grisly scene that keeps replaying in his head, tries to focus on the task at hand now: survival. "Here are some water bottles, too… Empty, of course." Though she sighs, she shoves them into the backpacks anyway. "Hmm… Rope, tarp, knives… I wonder if they've got matches in here… Then again, I don't know where the hell we're gonna get wood in a place like this…"

He wanders to the other side of the pile and begins pulling out useful items. "Do you think anyone's gonna come back?"

"Probably. Once the initial shock wears off and they realize that they'll need other things to survive… Ooo, compact sleeping bags. I hate sleeping in the cold, so I'm definitely taking one." Skyloh continues to grab and mumble calmly, completely unaffected by the tense atmosphere. Altair watches her, recalling how still she grew when they were watching the first day in his room on TV, how her hands trembled when Terra grasped the sword, how all the color seeped from her face when Ruby fell. Before they boarded the helicopter, she'd told him that she hadn't slept at all, that she had a lot to think about.

"We'll need to arm ourselves, too." He's startled by her statement and looks struck when she holds up an axe. When she sees the hesitation on his face, her resolve softens, but only slightly. "We can't really expect everyone, or anyone really, to just… I know you're a good guy, Altair, but you can't expect the same from everyone else, okay?" She tucks the axe into a hoop on her pants, then begins kicking away some of the things on the ground in order to get to the middle.

Altair's eyes shift from the swords to the spears to the knives to the hammers. He handled them plenty in the training room and got a decent score working with a spear, but after seeing what one of them did… He shakes his head, tries to think logically. _"Skyloh is right."_ He wanted to believe that his class would stick together, that ultimately everything would be alright - but that illusion shattered when they lost Ruby. Altair wants to be an idealist, but knows that he has to be realistic now, after all that has happened. "Alright," he mumbles, more to himself than to Skyloh, and picks up a spear as his weapon.

"There's some food in here, and I grabbed enough to sustain us for a while, but we definitely can't take the whole thing," she says, cutting through his thoughts once more. "It'd be too much and… Well, the others will get hungry, too." Even if she has to defend herself, Skyloh isn't inhuman, and she doesn't want anyone to suffer from starvation.

"Maybe we could just stay here?" Altair offers, his eyes on the large crates of food. "Someone told me that, in the past, there was a group who took control of the Cornucopia. The Careers would set up camp around it and protect it, to make sure that they had everything."

Skyloh frowns at the suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds ideal, but they had more than two people in their group. On top of that, they usually sent out people to kill other tributes and we…" She trails off, not wanting to say that they both know is inevitable. Skyloh is ready to fight to keep herself safe, but she knows she can't bring it in herself to attack another person. Especially not someone she's been classmates with for half a year, not others she's known for longer than that. She may not have many friends in Class 7-A, but she doesn't have enemies, either. "Maybe we should just start looking around for other people. You probably wanna find Luke and Hawk, huh?"

He thinks of his closest friends and hopes that they're alright. Both of them are strong, he knows, but anyone could crumble under these conditions. "Yeah." When he begins grabbing more supplies for them, he realizes that Skyloh had said 'we.'

He'd always liked the platinum blonde, always thought she was fun and vivacious and outgoing. They had never been particularly close despite this, and going into the Hunger Games, he didn't think an alliance would be struck up between them. Since they both won the popularity contest, though, and since they'd been dropped in together… It only seemed right. He half expected her to run off her own, having always been pretty independent, but it's nice to know they're on the same page. On top of that, having someone to watch his back is a very reassuring thought.

Skyloh slips her backpack on and rolls her shoulders, trying to get used to the weight. "Well, ready to go? We should probably get out of here before the next group shows up."

Altair turns his eyes to the horizon, searching for familiar faces. Part of him wants to see the others, to make sure that they're alright, but the other part is just afraid. He's not sure how the night's affected them. "Yeah," he agrees eventually, pulling on his own bag. "Yeah, let's get going."

* * *

><p>Room 325. That's Kate's room number back at home, in the former Capitol. That's the room number she's sitting in now, in the building that looks exactly like the dormitory she's lived in for half of her life. The bed is soft, unlike her personal bed, and there are too many furnishings in the room. It's the small details - four pillows instead of three, pink curtains instead of red, a chestnut-colored dresser instead of a cherrywood - that remind her that this is not home, that she shouldn't get too comfortable.<p>

Still, as she lays looking up at the ceiling, she enjoys the peace. This is how she spent many of her days off, just in her room, appreciating the solitude. Kate has always been very quiet and very reserved, to the point where people in her classes wouldn't even know she was present. People were never rude to her or particularly unkind, but she doubted they remembered her or thought of her at all outside of class. Nonetheless, Kate liked to think she was happy with her life, that everything was alright even if she wasn't the most popular or the most well known. She had her sister and she was alive and well, and that was all that really mattered.

There's always been a part of her that's wanted to fit in, that's longed to have lifelong friends and intimate connections. Sometimes she'd watch her classmates longingly, wanting to speak up but not quite having the courage to.

In the end, maybe her experience with being alone will be her greatest asset in the Hunger Games.

Kate stands up and walks over to the window. As she watches for any signs of her classmates - perhaps she should stop referring to them as that, she thinks - one hand rests on the collar wrapped securely around her neck. Her fingers feel around the cool metal, searching for dents and buttons even if she knows they aren't there; she's searched for them endlessly already. The collar is a perfect circle, fitted so perfectly that Kate wonders if it was made personally for her. There's only one thing that protrudes from the metal: a small red blip, located at the very back of her neck. When she glanced at it in the mirror earlier, she saw that it was dull but also that there is a small light within it.

_"What does it mean?"_ she can't help but wonder as she presses her skin against the blip. It must have some kind of function; she's learned that the Capitol always does something for a reason, and she doubts it's there merely for decoration (even if the Capitol are overly fond of decoration).

Suddenly, she spots three figures walking in front of the building, back towards the Cornucopia. She shuffles away from the window, afraid of being seen, and sits herself down on the very edge of the bed. Her heart pounds heavily in her chest, reverberating through her body, through the metal that reminds her time and time again that there is a countdown to the end of her life.

Her panic is rising and she knows she has to calm down. Kate drops back, tries to enjoy the softness of the bed and its inviting warmth. Even if she pretends that she's back home and not in some God forsaken arena, it's only for now, and Kate has never been fond of visions of grandeur. She stands up, walks to the door and looks around at the nearly familiar room, then moves on.

* * *

><p>It's a long walk to the Cornucopia. They hadn't realized how far they had walked the previous day until morning hit and they realized they had no supplies. Safety was nice while it lasted, but it wouldn't do them much good if they couldn't sustain themselves.<p>

"Ugh, that was such a good hiding place, too," Dahlia whines as they tread past the dorm building. During their hasty retreat yesterday, they'd contemplated going in and stealing a room, but figured it would be too obvious. Sleeping on a bed sounded a lot nicer than the tile floors they'd spread out across last night, though. "We haven't run into anyone yet… Do you think they're all still asleep?" She squints at the horizon, narrowing her eyes at the rising sun. "It's still pretty early…"

"Remember, we ran off in completely different directions," Zook replies, wiping at his sleepy eyes. "I bet they're all coming back, too…"

"Right, because what we need is another big confrontation," Lana comments dryly.

He gives her a deadpan look. "I'm hungry. You're hungry. We're all hungry and we need food, and I know they have some at the Cornucopia. We also need water, which means we need water bottles. I honestly don't know how much longer I can go without eating, and I wish I had stuffed my face more at that last dinner…" At that comment, his stomach growls rambunctiously, causing him to groan and Dahlia to snicker. "Let's just pray that we came up with the idea first and that we get there first. If I had to face Cole…"

Lana winces at the mention of the dark-haired boy. "Running into him out of anyone… He's with Lila and Allegra, too. I saw them all running off together." Her response is a shared frown between Dahlia and Zook. It's definitely a deadly alliance, the three of them together; they all received high scores from their private sessions with the Gamemakers, but their prowess hadn't gone unnoticed in the training room either. "I bet he wouldn't hesitate to kill."

"You shouldn't say that," Zook protests weakly. He doesn't deny it outright, though, because he knows it would be a lie. Cole has always stuck to himself, but not in the way that Kate does. Despite his preferred silence, he was never forgotten or ignored. People remembered him so they could avoid him - not that he ever went out of his way to interact with others. His silence was cold and calculating, his sharp retorts usually one-worded but painful. He has no connections to the class, no friends or confidantes - it would be easy for him to fight solely for himself. "I'm a little surprised that he teamed up with anyone at all, let alone Lila and Allegra."

Dahlia shrugs. "I dunno. It makes sense. They're both pretty vicious, so they'll be fighting towards the same end."

"I guess."

As soon as the Cornucopia is in view, Dahlia grins and struts forward. Zook is in tow, ready to grab something to eat, but Lana's eyes narrow cautiously and she curses under her breath. "Wait!" she breathes, grabbing both of them by the wrists and pulling them behind a building. She slaps a hand over Dahlia's mouth before the platinum blonde can voice her protest. "We're not the first ones," she whispers, fear in her green eyes.

The three remain stark still as they listen to the voices carried by the wind.

"I hope we find Terra soon," murmurs Mattheo as he sits on the grass.

"I'm sure she's fine," Riley replies reassuringly. "We didn't search for too long last night, anyway, so it's not like we would have found her then. We'll keep looking around today. How big can this place be?"

Lorea snorts. "I'm sorry, I didn't know this was a recon mission."

"Lorea," her brother sighs. "Come on. She's part of our alliance." She makes a sound of distaste, but doesn't protest any further. "Anyway… It kind of looks like someone's gone through the goods already. I mean, there's plenty left, but it's been kicked into two piles… Some of the food's missing."

"Well, everyone would have realized how hungry they were by now," says Mattheo. "It was only a matter of time… Good thing they left some for us, though."

"Yeah, good thing, huh?" The atmosphere tenses considerably when the new voice speaks up. Zook, Dahlia, and Lana poke their heads out from behind the building, still having ample cover to keep themselves hidden, in order to confirm who it is. To their horror, it's exactly who they think it is: Lila, Cole, and Allegra. The fiery redhead stands with her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk hanging on her lips. "Thanks for watching over it for us."

Lewis frowns. "What, are you planning on taking all of it for yourself?"

"That's the plan," she answers cheerily. It send a shiver down Lana's spine. "So you can get lost now."

"So you are with Lila and Allegra." Jorden's looking at Cole with a mixed expression that's difficult to read. "I just… I dunno. I always thought were kinda friends." Amusement flickers across Lila's face and Allegra rolls her eyes. Cole, as usual, looks unaffected. "We don't- I mean, you don't have to do this. We don't have to fight."

Lorea glares at him crossly. "This alliance is big enough already."

"Lorea!" Lewis whispers scoldingly.

"Don't flatter yourselves," Allegra scoffs. "You're all as conspicuous as a herd of mules. We heard you walking over so we hid. There are, what, five of you? What a great way to win the Games, huh, sneaking up on people while you're stomping around?" The color drains from Mattheo's face when she pulls out an arrow from her quiver and aims at him. "Now get lost."

Mattheo shuffles back on his hands, trying to put some distance between himself and the tribute from District 13. "W-w-we don't have to do this," he says, reusing Jorden's words. "Please. We- We'll just leave. We don't -"

"Are you kidding me!" Lorea snaps, directing her glare at the dark-haired boy. "We're sitting on a pile of weapons and you're willing to give it all up just because she's pointing something at you? God, you're pathetic." With incredible speed and accuracy, she grabs one of the knives lying on the ground and throws it at Allegra, tearing through the material of her pants and creating a thin red line along the skin of her thigh. Allegra cries out, more in surprise than pain, as she drops her weapon and brings her hands to the bleeding cut. "You guys get lost," she snarls, surprising both the opposition and her own allies, including her twin.

"Lorea…" he begins.

"Shut up," she hisses, gray eyes alight with fury. She turns her attention to the trio, who look much more on edge than before. "Get lost."

"Not so fast." It's Lewis who gasps when Cole is up close against Lorea, the sharp side of a sword pressed carefully against her throat. The smaller student makes no noise, only glares up at Cole's towering figure with hate. "We're not here for an alliance, and we're not here to negotiate. We're here to take what's ours, and that's it." He sees her fingers twitch out of the corner of his eye and grabs them tightly with his free hand before they can touch another knife. "Calm down," he says, and he's smiling so terribly that she actually shrinks back.

Lewis stands up quickly, but the arrow is pointed at him now and Allegra doesn't look like she's going to back down. "No, please, stop," he pleads. "Just let her go. Please." His face betrays desperation and fear, something that they sense immediately. "Please."

The sword returns to the sheath at Cole's side as Lorea stumbles backward, the grip on her wrist released. She spits at her attacker, but Lewis quickly pulls her back and shields her from the other three, not wanting another confrontation. "We should just go," he whispers to the other three.

"We were here first," Lorea growls, despite their nods of agreement.

"He just almost killed you!" Riley hisses desperately, stealing a glance at the now impatient teen over her shoulder. "We don't stand a chance against them! We should go and come back once they've cleared out."

"_If_ they clear out."

Lila clears her throat behind them, fed up with being ignored. "We don't _have_ to let you walk free, you know," she states calmly, her fingers wrapped comfortably around the handles of her dual blades.

Mattheo worriedly catches Lewis's eyes. "We should go."

"No!"

Lorea is the only one protesting, but it's enough to stall the entire group. When the argument escalates and they're still standing in front of the Cornucopia, Allegra sighs irately and raises her arms. "This is getting ridiculous."

His scream bounces off the buildings when the arrow pierces into Jorden's thigh, lodging firmly into his flesh. He instantly crumples to the ground, wrought with pain, hands shaking and face white as a sheet. "Leave," Lila demands, the playful tone gone. Mattheo and Lewis hurriedly pick up Jorden by the arms and drag him off, with Riley and Lorea trailing behind them. Lorea shoots the trio a dirty look before running to catch up with her brother. When their figures disappear around the corner, Lila can still hear Jorden's whimpers.

"Well," she says afterwards, eyes settling on a basket of fruit, "that went a lot better than expected."

"We should have just gotten rid of them all while we had the change," Cole states, frowning. "That was the whole point of hiding and catching them off guard."

"No, the point was to rattle them," she retorts. "Which worked, obviously, thanks to Allegra." The mentioned girl simply shrugs and hooks her bow onto the quiver on her back. "Anyway, we can do that to whoever's stupid enough to come around next, alright? Geez." She takes a violent bite out of the red apple.

Zook, Dahlia, and Lana pull back from the corner, each wearing the same forlorn expression. "Maybe we should try later," Dahlia says finally, trying to lighten up the tension. "I mean… They can't possibly stay there all day, can they?" She sounds more hesitant than ever, but the other two nod because thinking the worst won't do them any good now. "Well, maybe we're better off looking for water or something. We'll come back at noon."

The three continue on their way, though make sure to put ample space between themselves and those guarding the Cornucopia. Zook hangs his head low as he rubs the back of his neck. He quietly murmurs, "Wouldn't hesitate to kill…"

* * *

><p>The sun is high in the sky, a mere reminder of the amount of time that has past. The underclassmen are huddled together in one room in the replica of someone's home. Joel is fast asleep, with his head on River's lap while Drizzle and Oliver stare vacantly out the window - waiting. Thistle shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants issued to him by the Capitol and finds nothing; this only bothers him when his stomach begins rumbling uncomfortably. "We need food," he says quietly to Oralee, not wanting the others to overhear. "At this rate, we're all going to starve."<p>

"Well, what to we do?" she replied, brow furrowed. "We can't just walk around with them in the open; it's dangerous." She looks back at them and they instantly sense her worry; the expressions they wear are evidence of that. Oralee quickly pulls on a smile, waves them away with a flick of her wrist. "We'd be like walking targets. We're the most vulnerable."

When Thistle looks at her, really looks at her, he sees that her eyes are bloodshot and the bags underneath them are dark. He doubts she got any sleep, what with how haggard she looks - and he can't blame her. He'd been ignorant enough to think that the kids would be okay, that the others would try to leave them alone, but after yesterday… A shiver races up his spine when he thinks of the fallen twelve-year-old.

"I'll go out," he says firmly, already spotting the protest on her face. "I'll be fine. I can handle it, alright? You just stay safe."

"You, too," she breathes, hands shaking. She was closer to Ruby - to all of these kids, really - than he was. She's still rattled, still recovering, but trying her best to keep a strong front for the others. "If you can't find anything in twenty minutes, come back."

He bobs his head as he prepares to exit through the door. "If you sense any trouble, get out immediately. I'll come find you. You should be fine, we're pretty far away, but all the same…" His gaze drifts over to the underclassmen, who are watching him with curious eyes. "I'll be back soon." He hesitates, but only for a moment, before stepping out and closing the door firmly behind him. He instantly winces, blinded by the light, and holds up his arm to give his eyes some shade. "Damn…"

Thistle doesn't have any idea where he's going. Part of him is telling him to go back to the Cornucopia because there is so much there, but another is warning him against it. It's late in the day and the others would have had the same thought by now, and he's not sure how he'd fair on his own against any opposition he could run into. He decides to keep safe - as safe as anyone can be in this arena, anyway.

He hopes he can find something edible, or at least some water. Even if he can't bring it back with him, it'd be nice to know a water source exists period, and if there are berries, he can just pick some and have Drizzle identify the ones that aren't poisonous. He begins to lose hope just ten minutes into his search; all he can see are buildings and billboards and street lights. It looks _too_ much like home, he thinks grimly, eyes scanning over the skyscrapers and asphalt beneath his feet. There isn't any sign of vegetation or water anywhere, which means that his only hope still lays in the center of the city.

Thistle chews on the inside of his lip as he contemplates taking a look around the Cornucopia. Logic gets the better of curiosity, though, and he decides to head back before Oralee can start worrying about him. He turns the corner and walks straight into Mykal, knocking her over. He instinctively jumps back, hands up for defense, but then he realizes that it's _Mykal_ and aside from the fact that she's on the ground, she's not the kind of person to deliver a sucker punch anyway.

"Sorry," she apologizes as he scrambles to her feet. "I wasn't really watching where I was going and you kinda just popped outta no where…" When she realizes who it is she's standing across from, she presses her lips together contemplatively and takes a step back. "How've you been?" she asks, though he can tell she's being very cautious. "Are you okay? Are, um, are the others okay, too?"

He nods. "Yeah. We're alright. I just came to look for food."

"Yeah, us, too."

He raises an eyebrow, quickly glances around for any signs of others. "… Who's 'us'?"

"Huh? Oh, me, Keldon, Korra, and Rea. We decided to split up and cover more ground, then get together to see if we've found anything." They're both very careful with their words, not wanting to give away too much information. Mykal knows Thistle would never seek them out to kill, and likewise for him; but these Games are dangerous, and risks can't be taken. "Well, I should probably get going in case -"

A horrifying wail tears through them, chilling them to the core. "That was Rea," Mykal gasps, already running off. Thistle watches her retreating figure and ponders following, just to make sure she's alright, but he thinks of Oliver and Drizzle and Joel and River, and he chooses who needs him most. With a fleeting glance in her direction, he returns to the house.

* * *

><p>Rain crawls along the edge of the cliff that overlooks the city. She spent a lot of time in the small forests that surrounded the former Capitol when she was home, and wondered if they had been replicated in the arena. Sure enough, they were, and currently she is rummaging around, searching for berries and other edible foods. Nyle is still searching around the replica homes and buildings, trying to find anything that may be useful to them.<p>

She listens carefully to the sounds around her: the leaves crunching beneath her boots, the rustling of the leaves, the low howl of the wind. She breathes slowly and carefully, and tries to control the noises she's making, so that nothing takes her by surprise. When she hears the voices, as soft as they are, she stops moving completely.

"What do we do?" Riley asks worriedly. "I, I mean… We don't have any medical supplies or anything. I don't even know how to wrap one of these…"

"We need to calm down first," Lewis says, voice even. "Hey, hey, Jorden, it's alright. We'll figure something out, okay? We can't just pull it out… Since it's still in there, it's keeping all the blood from coming out at once, and we don't have anything to stunt the bleeding… It could be infected, too."

Jorden groans. "We can't just leave it in there… Shit…"

"Hey, relax," Riley murmurs. "If you're tense it'll hurt more…"

A clear ding sounds from above them. When Rain looks up, she sees a small silver tin attached to a white parachute, slowly descending towards the group. She leans forward carefully, silently, and sees that it lands in Jorden's outstretched hands. "What's that?" Mattheo asks, peering at his curiously.

"One of those sponsor items, probably," Lorea answers, standing away from them with her arms crossed. "I guess the Capitol assholes felt bad for you."

Lewis looks at her admonishingly, but she ignores him completely. "Well, looks like we got lucky," he says to Jorden, smiling. "Maybe it's supplies or salve or something. Go on, open it."

Appearing relieved, he twists the metal container, opens it - and it explodes.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Down in the Valley" - The Head and the Heart<p>

_Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways..._

* * *

><p>I decided I hate sponsor systems and they're the worst so I might just not do one? Maybe if you guys really want one, I can try, but… I kind of like using polls, as well. Ah well, we'll figure it out along the way.<p>

I've been distracted with the Olympics and some of my other stories and Assassin's Creed, so sorry for the wait. I didn't realize how anxious some of you were, haha. Anyway, make sure to check out mine/snicker-xo's tumblr to see the sketches of the tributes! They're really great!

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	13. false hope

Author's Note:

We've got more art for the story by **Katts**, though it's just a picture of Oralee and Terra. Still, they're both quite lovely - and can be found on my writing tumblr! :) **cassie glitter**'s are still being uploaded, so keep an eye out for your tribute if you've yet to see them!

Phew, so I can't believe it's already August. This summer went by so quickly, but it was very relaxing and rewarding all at once. Good luck to you who are starting school/will be starting school soon! I was also pleasantly surprised by the shock that came with the end of last chapter, ha ha. It was definitely meant to come off as a surprise and I guess it worked - and hopefully all will be explained within this chapter. :)

ALSO - I'd like to direct you guys to **initia nova**'s_ Dependant_ and **ckrets**'s _The Process of Elimination_. They are both SYOT's and have very interesting backgrounds/settings. They're both still accepting, so go on over! :)

Finally, thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter: **Trapped in Narnia**, **Katts**, **cassie glitter**, **Rikachan101**, **shimmergirl109**, **Fishpuppy**, **ckrets**, **pie eater 3001**, **noname**, **initia nova**, **Bubblybubblezzz/Qsssdxdx**.

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Twelve  
>False Hope<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "I Want It AllWe Will Rock You Mash-Up (feat. Armageddon aka Geddy)" - Queen

* * *

><p>Everything is blending together: the screaming, the smoke, the cries, the fire, the explosion and the confusion that accompanies it. Rain coughs as she propels herself away from the cliff, her lungs filling with ash and her nostrils taking in the odor of something that can only be described as burning flesh. The smell is nauseating and the frantic yells make her head pound; she leans to the side and dry heaves because her stomach is empty. She stays like that for what feels like years, her cold hands grasping at the pebbles and her hair in her face. She doesn't move or try to call for help or ask if everyone is okay because, honestly, she is afraid.<p>

"Oh my God!" she hears Riley scream. The smoke is clearing now, and the others are slowly recovering from the impact of the explosion. Riley is the only one already on her feet, though her buckling knees are threatening to give out any second now. Her hands are clapped over her mouth, horror and disgust visible in her hazel eyes. Her frightened gaze is on Jorden.

When Rain leans over the edge, nausea bubbles in her stomach once again.

Where the skin isn't charred, it's blood red or yellow with pus. She can barely make out the individual characteristics of his face, all of it being molded into one expression of twisted fear. The fabric of his clothes are still sporting flames; the merciless tongues continue licking at the already damaged skin. Beside his hand lies what's left of the silver container and its deadly contents, the white parachute blackened with soot.

Lewis's hands are shaking when he pulls Lorea up by the arm. "We need to get out of here now," he gasps, voice hoarse from breathing in the sullied air. "People must've seen the explosion from far away. We're not safe here anymore. Besides…" He looks down at the motionless body of his comrade and swallows thickly. "We can't stay here."

"But what about the body?" Mattheo asks, voice hitching at his use of the last word. He's trying his hardest to actually look at the body, but his gaze is focused on the leaves around it instead. "We can't just leave it here…"

"What else _can_ we do with it?" he replies desperately. "I-it's still on fire, so we can't just carry it around with us… God, it's probably gonna spread. Guys, let's go." Picking up the few supplies they have, Lewis leads the way down the trail. Riley spares one last glance at Jorden's corpse, her lower lip quivering, before she runs off to catch up with the others.

Rain drags herself to a clearing that's relatively smoke-free. Even in the clear air, her eyes burn and her throat aches - and her mind is filled with bloody images that will never go away. The look of hope on his face when he saw the parachute, the smile he wore, the subsequent terror that arose when he saw that it was not medicine, but an explosive he was gifted with. When Rain last saw someone die, they were on their death beds, sick and unable to walk; death had been waiting for them for a while. But Jorden… Jorden was supposed to keep on living. He still had everything ahead of him: a life, a family, friends. He wasn't supposed to die.

She carefully gets to her feet, head still reeling. She just wants to sleep or rest or anything really - anything that'll get her away from here. Nyle would be back at their hideout by now, and she'd have to come back empty-handed. Rain takes in a deep breath and proceeds west, when suddenly the trees and brush around her begin to sway violently. She spins on her feet, fists up for defense, but there are no tributes or animals in the vicinity; rather, above her, a large hovercraft has swooped over the area. She watches, awestruck, as a beam of light casts down and Jorden's body is swept up into the air, collected by the machine. It flies away, disappearing into the blue sky.

Her brow furrows and her feet automatically take her back to the edge of the cliff. The body is gone, as is the fire. All that's left as evidence is the white parachute. She doesn't know why she does it or if it'll have any benefit to her whatsoever, but she jumps down and retrieves the fabric. The container has disappeared with Jorden's body as well, but she figures she might as well take what's left with her. If nothing else, it'll serve as a reminder of the fallen.

Rain folds up the parachute and tucks it into her pocket. She looks around, searches for anyone or anything that could be watching her, then runs off.

* * *

><p>Riley is still shaking when they find a safe, empty building on the edge of the city. Mattheo has his arm wrapped around her shoulders for support, though he doesn't look any less unnerved than she. Lewis paces back and forth in front of them, a pensive expression on his face, while Lorea's face is hidden from the others, her eyes focused on something (or nothing) outside the window. "What the hell was that?" Lewis asks quietly, more to himself than to the others. "That… That was supposed to be a sponsor item, wasn't it? Aren't those supposed to help us or something? Aren't people supposed to send those to us if they like us?"<p>

"They lied," says Mattheo.

"No, it's not as simple as that. The Capitol don't just _lie_. They hide things and they manipulate, but… Shit, I don't know. Those items are what are supposed to keep us alive, and now we can't even trust them." He raggedly runs his finger through his blond hair, tussling it in frustration and anger. "Do you… Do you think people can send us things like that if they don't like us?"

"I don't know anyone who disliked Jorden," Mattheo replies, shaking his head. "Not at home, not at school… He was always popular - you know that." The older Carnet twin can easily recall the crowds that flocked to the boy from District 1, how it was impossible to ever catch him alone because people were just drawn to him. "And I heard he really impressed the people in the Capitol. They liked his interview, and his score wasn't bad."

"Then why?" It's a rhetorical question, because all of them are just as confused as he is, but he can't help but just think _why_. Why for this entire situation, why this class, why this punishment, why them? Jorden was kind and attractive and well-liked, and he died in such an ugly and painful way. It's not fair, Lewis thinks miserably, that a group of kids are being punished for decisions made by their government. This wasn't their fault, they didn't deserve this - and still no one is going to help them. Two, maybe more, of their classmates are already gone, but no one has stepped in yet. There has been no intervention, no rescue attempt, no contact. _Why?_

In the silence that follows, Lewis realizes how fruitless fighting back is. They have no say in the matter at all; Terra is right, they are all going to die, and on the Capitol's terms. It doesn't matter how or when they die, whether it be by a sword or a glimmer of false hope - it's just the simple fact that they will. It's inevitable, and there is nothing they can do about it. Plotting and scheming and strategizing won't help them, especially not now.

The weight of this realization falls heavy on his shoulders and psyche. He walks back until his heels are against the wall, then slides down because his legs can no longer keep him up. Until now, none of this seemed real. Until now, there was a part of him that kept believing that everything would be okay, that eventually they would be saved and this madness would be put to an end. It's all been chosen ignorance and pointless wishing, and perhaps it's what has hurt them the most.

"Shit," he curses again, quietly.

On the other side of the room, Riley is still trying to gather her bearings. She's trying to erase the image of Jorden's burning flesh from her mind, trying to forget the smell that still lingers at the back of her throat, trying to convince herself that none of this is real and that he's not dead. It's useless, because when she closes her eyes all she sees is a montage of Ruby being stabbed by Terra and Jorden screaming from the burns, but keeping her eyes open reminds her that she is here. Riley's trapped.

She leans her head against Mattheo's shoulder, feels it shivering under her skin. Sweet Mattheo has always been so kind and thoughtful, so willing to help others. These Games are a nightmare for everyone, but for someone as gentle and weak-hearted as him… She takes his hand in his and gives it a light squeeze of reassurance. She can tell he's trying to be strong for her, but both of them are a mess now - they need to be strong for each other, with each other.

He tries to smile, but the expression is so difficult to convey that it turns out as a grimace.

Lorea is the first one to stand up, perhaps hours later. "Are we done feeling sorry for ourselves and sitting around?" she asks, irritated. She catches the admonishing look Lewis send hers, begging for a bit of sympathy and compassion. Sympathy and compassion, however, are not going to get them through these Games, and certainly not gong to help anyone win. "If we want to have any food today - because, reminder, we were scared away from the food supply even though we were in the majority - we need to do something."

Even if he hasn't eaten all day, Mattheo isn't hungry. Contrarily, the idea of eating anything right now makes him feel sick. "They're probably still at the Cornucopia - Cole, Lila, and Allegra. They've got all the weapons now. We can't…"

"Let's just relax for now," her brother suggests softly. "We need a break."

"Oh, I'm sorry if I wasn't considering your tired legs or weary conscience while we're fighting for our lives," she replies in a mockingly airy tone. He frowns, but she's beyond caring about his disapproval now. This stupid alliance was his idea; she would have been fine with just the two of them, _wanted_ just the two of them, in fact. More people would hold them down - as it has, obviously - but he was just so insistent… "I don't mind sitting here like ducks and waiting for people to find and finish us off. 'S'not like I wanted to live anyway."

Despite her size, being the smallest of them all, and usual quiet demeanor, and Lorea is very intimidating. Mattheo just ducks his head, unwilling to make eye contact or rebuke her despite his disagreeing with her, while Lewis decides to stay quiet because he knows she's particularly sensitive at the moment. Riley, being the other female in the group, tries to make peace with the agitated blonde. "You're right. We should probably get going soon, but… Maybe not now? Maybe just a bit more time of peace…?"

Lorea definitely doesn't like Riley, but she doesn't hate her either. She grunts, a small sound of acquiescence, and perches herself on the window sill once again with her arms folded defensively across her chest. Riley and Mattheo exchange a look of relief, but Lewis's gaze is still focuses on his sister. Worry simmers uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

><p>Luke and Catcher skirt along the edge of the Cornucopia, keeping an eye out for anyone who may already be there. Phoenix and Hawk are back at the hide out, keeping an eye out for other tributes ("We shouldn't call them our classmates anymore," Hawk says) and hopefully Altair. It's late in the day and this is their first venture outside, which means they've gone without food for over twenty-four hours, and desperate times call for desperate measures.<p>

"Worst case scenario, people have already gotten all the food and nothing's left," Luke mumbles.

"No, worse case scenario, there's still food, but the place is booby-trapped and/or being guarded," Catcher corrects.

When they round the opening, they're pleased to find that at least two of their worries aren't real. The supplies have definitely dwindled throughout the day, but there are still food and weapons left, and there are no others in sight. With a whoop of victory, Luke bounces over to the crates without a second thought; Catcher dismally thinks that they're incredibly lucky their fears proved to be zero for three. "Geez, you gotta be more careful, man," he sighs, even if he can't help but feel relieved at the sight of piles of fruit. "You could have stepped on a land mine or something… Then you _and_ the food would be gone."

"I get the feeling you'd feel worse about losing the food," Luke jokes, seeing the strain in his eyes. "Good thing there's still so much left, though. Hawk was getting super pissy and I think it's cause he hasn't eaten anything…" He grabs an apple, takes it by the teeth, and begins rummaging through another pile in search of a bag. "I wonder if they've got water bottles or anything. I'm super dehydrated."

Catcher, holding a refillable bottle upside down, empties the air from it with a disappointed sigh. "Nope. But there's gotta be water somewhere. Why else would they give these to us?"

"Uh, to torture us?"

He can't completely write off that possibility. "Well, let's just be grateful we've got food." He fills up his own backpack with vegetables and packages of jerky before turning his attention to the weapons and survival supplies. For good measure, he picks up rope and flint, along with a broadsword he sees lying nearby. "We should bring some weapons and stuff for defense for the other guys, too. I mean, I bet Hawk could beat up a guy if he wanted to, but what good are fists against blades and stuff…?"

The dark-haired male can tell that Luke doesn't look too comfortable with the prospect of wielding weapons. Catcher doesn't enjoy the weight of the blade in his hand, but honestly, it makes him feel safe, and security is what he needs now. Luke isn't the brightest kid, and he's never been top of the class in terms of academics, but this situation has brought out the survivalist. Even if he doesn't want to think about killing the others, he grabs a scimitar because he knows not everyone will share his apprehension for very long. He thinks back to Terra and how mortified she looked after her weapon - no, after _she_ - killed Ruby. How long will it be before everyone decides killing is necessary and a guilty conscience no longer holds them back?

"Are you alright?" Catcher asks, cutting through his thoughts. "We probably shouldn't hang around here for much longer. Dunno who might be coming around, you know?"

"Yeah. Let's just grab a couple more things so we don't have to come back. Besides, it might all be gone next time." He continues rummaging through the weapons and supplies. "Y'know, I'm surprised there's not a gun in here or something. All these weapons are medieval."

"It'd be too easy, probably," Catcher reasons solemnly. "Shooting someone in the head is quick and mostly painless - if you do it right. That's what I read in books," he explains when Luke raises and eyebrow questioningly. "It's different stabbing someone, though. It's slow and painful, and you probably have to do it more than once. It's a lot more… sadistic." He cringes. "They probably love stuff like that."

Luke recalls all the times he watched reality television shows with Melissa back at school. He remembers thinking how trashy and unrealistic they were, but also how addictive and hard to stop watching they were. Is this what the Hunger Games are like to the people of the Capitol? Are they watching them with sick amusement, thinking that this is disgusting but impossible to look away? He always thought that reality television was popular because normal people got to laugh at the lives of celebrities. They also cried when the celebrities cried, laughed when they laughed, felt enraged when they were wronged. They were living through those celebrities. Maybe, he thinks with a sick feeling in his stomach, that's exactly what the citizens of the Capitol are doing with them.

"Do you think they all really like this?" he asks as they begin their trek back to the hideout. "The Capitol people, I mean. Do you think they enjoy watching us cry and starve and fight and kill each other?"

Catcher contemplates the question, unsure of how to answer. Quite honestly, he isn't sure. Prime Minister Snow herself just seems like a spiteful woman out for revenge because of the fall of her equally sick ancestor. As for the actual citizens of the Capitol, he can't say. Maybe they are just sadistic freaks like they're written in the text books. But maybe they're also just represented by one vengeful woman, and maybe they're just as distraught by this as Class 7-A is.

In the end, all he says is, "Maybe."

Luke isn't satisfied with the answer, he can tell, but the District 7 tribute doesn't push it. They all know so little about the actual civilization of the Capitol. They saw pictures and they read biased text, but now that they've actually dealt with them, Luke realizes that he might as well know nothing. Textbooks can only teach so much, and obviously theirs didn't teach enough. Despite their predicament - these Hunger Games - he can't help but just be curious about the society that's enslaved him and his classmates.

"You shouldn't think too much, eh? It's worrying me." Catcher tries to lighten up the mood with a small grin, which Luke returns in full. Even if he's struggling, smiling comes naturally to Luke, as it always has, and Catcher finds some comfort in the familiar gesture.

It's the little things that remind him the world isn't completely falling apart.

* * *

><p>Zook's expression of shock and the fact that he's so impressed insults Lana more than complimenting her. "Seriously, it's not like this is the first smart thing I've ever suggested," she says irritably. "And my grades were better than yours last semester!"<p>

He deadpans. "I don't really get what that has to do with anything. Anyway, let's just hurry and get out of here… I know it's clean, but it's still freaking me out. … Also, your GPA was better than mine by .01."

After raiding the Cornucopia, they were left to wonder how exactly they would be filling up their empty water bottles. They wandered around for a bit with no results, so Dahlia decided to set up camp in a nearby building before dusk, while the other two went on to continue the search. Zook was sure they were going to end up empty-handed at the end of the day, but Lana noticed something he hadn't paid any attention to: the cover to the underground sewer. He'd definitely been unsure at first, feeling that if any place was likely to have traps it'd be a dark place underground, along with the fact that drinking sewage water didn't sound refreshing or healthy.

"Let's just die of dehydration, then," Lana quipped, and two minutes later the two had descended and found that the water was completely clean and there weren't signs of a trap anywhere.

"Just 'cause it's a replication of the city doesn't mean they'd replicate the trash that goes through it," she explains as she bends down to scoop the rushing water into a reserve can. "I mean, I'd be kinda impressed if they went to those lengths…" She screws on the cap and throws it into her bag, then wipes the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her jacket. "I wonder if anyone else has figured this out yet."

"Not everyone has your brains." Lana glares at him for the sarcastic comment, but he just snickers. "Well, if they do, let's just not run into them down here. Armed or not, I don't wanna fight down here."

"It definitely seems like something out of a movie," she says as they climb up the later, back towards the surface. "Having a throwdown in the underground sewer… Only to be attacked by mutants and trapped underneath forever!" He actually stops climbing to show her his look of disgust, which she grins impishly at. "Sorry. Was the atmosphere not right?"

They busy themselves with small talk on the way to the hideout, though they also make sure their voices are low in case the others are around. After coming across Lila, Allegra, and Cole and earlier, they had yet to have a run-in with another one of their classmates. The unspoken hope is that their luck will continue to be as good.

It's been plaguing Lana, and she knows it bothers Zook as well: the one month time limit. Save for the earlier confrontation between the two alliances at the Cornucopia, everyone's strategy has been to stay away from others. They can't play keep away forever - otherwise they're all going to die. But then, she thinks, they're all going to die anyway, right? Whether if it's because of blowing up like Professor Porter or being speared through by a classmate, they'll all end up in the same place. The only difference is that in one circumstance, there will be one victor, and in the other there will be none. One life is better than none, but she can't even imagine living a life knowing that thirty-one of her former classmates are dead, at least partially because of her.

Not thinking about it isn't wise, but trying to ignore it keeps her from wanting to break down crying.

"I hope the kids are alright," Zook says. "I'm sure Oralee's taking good care of them. And Thistle, too, I think."

Lana quirks an eyebrow. "That punk ass kid who just pranked everyone because he had nothing better to do?"

"He's got a soft spot for the kids. I saw, during training," he explains with a small smile. "It's good, I think. I mean, them having both him and Oralee, two people to keep them safe and give them a bit of peace while we're in this mess."

She hears the hopefulness in his voice, and almost wants to hit him for it. "Zook…"

He spots the crinkle in her brow, can already hear the scolding that wants to escape her lips. "Don't tell me it's hopeless situation," he pleads. "Don't tell me we're on our own and this is our fight and there's nothing we can do. The second you do, you admit defeat, and they win." She wants to tell him that they've already won, that they won the moment they hijacked the bus and that she and he and everyone else have been the losers ever since, but she can see the determination in his eyes. Besides, who is she - who is anyone, really - to take away someone else's hope?

"I hope Dahlia hasn't eaten all the jerky," she says, changing the topic. "I'm starving and I want some meat."

As they enter the electronics building they set up camp in, and as they continue up the stairs, Zook swears he can hear something. "Wait," he whispers, grabbing Lana by the arm to stop her ascent. She looks at him curiously, but he raises a finger to his lips and turns an ear to the sound.

Now he can hear it distinctly - choked sobbing.

Lana catches on at that exact moment, and filled with terror and anguish, they bolt up the stairs calling for their friend. _"We shouldn't have left her alone,"_ Zook thinks, his heart pounding in his chest. _"We should have gone together."_ He rounds the corner, yelling out her name, and when he sees her on the floor his breathing stops.

But it's not Dahlia with the knife in her chest. It's not Dahlia with the red-stained jacket, with the fading amber eyes, or with the increasingly slow breaths. It's Keldon.

"I didn't mean to," she cries, voice racked with hiccups. "I was scared and- and I knew it wasn't you guys. I didn't mean to!" Her hands shake violently as she tries to push the damp hair away from his forehead, chokes another strained sob. "I'm so sorry," she breathes, even if Keldon can't hear her anymore. "I'm so sorry. I was so scared. I was so scared…!"

Still stunned, Lana hurries over and drops to her knees, so that she's beside Keldon. "He… Is he…?" Her eyes are glued to the throwing knife, which moves up and down with every rise of his chest. She reaches out to touch it, but Dahlia's wail finally snaps her out of her senses and she pulls back. She knows, from looking into his sheet white face, that he can't be saved. "Dahlia," she whispers, concerned for her friend.

"I heard footsteps and I was scared," she reiterates. "I didn't want to die. I didn't want to be hurt and I didn't know who it was. I was scared! I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry, I'm sorry!" Her red fingers reach out for Keldon's, which are unmoving. "I didn't…!"

Zook rushes to her side and pulls her into his arms, holds her shaking form against his own. She sobs uncontrollably into his chest as she clings to his jacket, as though she's trying to find something to hold onto, something to keep her from losing herself. "I'm so sorry," she gasps.

"You didn't mean to," he whispers, as evenly as he can. "It was… It was an accident." It seems wrong to write off a death as an accident, but she keeps crying and she keeps apologizing, and he doesn't know what else to say. He looks over at Lana, who can't tear her eyes away from Keldon's corpse. He briefly wonders who she's blaming for the death of their classmate - Dahlia or the Capitol. When she raises her head, though, and when her infuriated gaze meets his, he knows.

* * *

><p>Rea's chest heaves with gasps as she tries to steady her breathing. She glares at the girl pinned beneath her, squeezes her wrists and pushes her own legs together so that her hips can't move. She tries to ignore the tears rolling down Terra's cheeks and the way she's practically screaming because she's crying so hard. "I'm not going to let you kill me," she whispers heatedly, with as much confidence as she can muster. "I'm not going to be another one of your victims."<p>

She had been searching for food on her own when Terra came out of no where. She looked frazzled and frightened, as though she hadn't stopped running since she escaped from the Cornucopia, but Rea knew she couldn't risk just letting her go. She had seen her act, at school and during training, and if Terra wasn't going to show mercy to her then she wouldn't either.

"Are you gonna kill me, then?" Terra questions, tears still pouring from her brown eyes. She was daring her to.

"I'm not going to let you kill me," she repeats, skirting the question.

Terra laughs humorlessly. "You can't do it. You don't have the strength. You don't have the nerve."

"Because it takes real strength to kill a twelve-year-old, doesn't it?" Terra's eyes harden as she struggles powerfully underneath her captor, nearly throwing her off in the process. Rea manages to keep control, though, and pins her wrists painfully to the ground. "It takes real strength to act tough and play by the rules. It takes real strength to tell your classmates you're going to kill them because they're weak and stupid. It takes real strength to run like a coward when you finally realize you're wrong."

"I'm not wrong!" Terra growls. "I killed Ruby and it's tearing me apart," (Rea hears a sob in her voice), "but I'm not wrong. I stick by what I said because, newsflash, _we are still playing their game_. We're running and hiding, but sooner or later all of you are going to realize that we're going to be just like her. We're all going to end up exactly like Ruby and there's nothing we can do about it. It doesn't matter if I killed her - she probably would have died anyway."

Rea knows she doesn't mean to sound disrespectful, but the words are so cruel and cutting that she actually punches Terra. The girl screams from the pain (her nose is undoubtedly broken), but uses her free hand to push and kick Rea off of her. Rea scrambles backwards, putting space between herself and Terra, before jumping up and standing in a defensive position.

"I'll make you regret that," Terra hisses as she too stands up, trying to stunt the blood with her jacket sleeve. "Little Miss Righteous and her tales of betterment and morality. Do you actually think you're better than me? Do you think that pretending that everything will be alright will help anyone? Wake up, you idiot." Rea waits for the physical backlash that is sure to accompany the verbal, but Terra simply glares at her before disappearing into the brush. She thinks about chasing after her, but realizes she doesn't know what she would do if she actually caught up to her.

_"You can't do it,"_ she hears her taunt in her mind. _"You don't have the strength. You don't have the nerve."_

Her fists clench at her side in anger, but she knows that Terra's words - as infuriating as they may be - are true. Rea can't imagine picking up a weapon and killing anyone, let alone her own classmates. It doesn't matter if they're not close or friends; she knows these people, and they can never be just "the enemy."

"Rea!" Korra runs down the path and quickly grabs her by the shoulders. "Rea, are you alright? We heard a scream." Mykal shows up shortly after, but her breathing is heavier and she looks much more frantic than the brunette. Korra's eyes scan over her body, taking in the leaves and twigs attached to her outfit because of the short struggle with Terra, but she's pleased to see that there are no wounds. "What happened?"

"I ran into Terra," she answers. "But she's gone," Rea adds, when she sees the shock on Mykal's face and the fury on Korra's. "She didn't have anything on her or anyone with her… She's alone."

"You sound like you feel sorry for her," Korra says bluntly.

She recalls how upset Terra looked, how scared and angry was, and the fact that she hadn't stopped crying once. She doesn't like Terra at all, maybe even hates her after what she did to Ruby, but apparently it's possible to feel sympathy for people like her. "Maybe," is all Rea says.

"We should go," Mykal suggests, noting the following tension. "It's getting late and we all agreed to meet up before dark. Keldon may already be back." The former roommates agree, and they descend down the dirt slope, back into the city. "I ran into Thistle earlier," she says, breaking the silence that hangs over them. "He and Oralee are taking care of the underclassmen. It's very admirable, I think."

"Hm." Korra doesn't agree. It's admirable, yes, but it's far from being strategically smart. Rounding up a group of kids, and having them all travel together? It may as well be an entire caravan with flashing neon signs screaming 'PICK ME.' She doubts anyone will target them now, especially not after what happened at the Cornucopia, but later on in the Games, when things start to get grisly and it no longer matters how old someone is… "Maybe."

It doesn't take long to reach the place they chose to stay for the night. It's a replica of a small restaurant on 15th and Delly, one that's popular with students back home. When they make it to the back room, where the kitchen should be, Korra and Mykal drop what they found on a small kerchief: some berries and fruit. It's no five-star dinner, but it's their first meal of the day and no one can hide the hunger in their eyes.

But then Mykal blinks, and she realizes that something is wrong. "Keldon isn't back yet."

"He's probably still looking for food, since there's basically nothing out there," Korra replies as she picks up an apple and takes a large bite out of it. "We've got about twenty minutes before it actually starts to get dark, so don't worry."

Rea tries to be a little more sympathetic, and rests a hand on Mykal's shoulder. "He'll be fine," she says with a smile. "Don't worry."

Her fears ease slightly, and she pushes back the nagging voice to the recesses of her mind. "You're right. He's probably on his way back now."

* * *

><p>"Sorry," Thistle apologizes when he comes back empty-handed. "I ran into Mykal, and then she heard someone scream and… Well, honestly, I probably wouldn't have found anything anyway." He rubs the back of his head and hangs his head shamefully.<p>

Oralee looks a little guilty herself. "Well, they were getting restless, so… Well, Joel and Drizzle went out after you did." His jaw drops and she knows he's going to start yelling at her for being irresponsible, but she quickly holds up her hands and stops him. "But Drizzle found some berries - definitely not poisonous, she's sure - and both of them brought back enough for all of us. I know it's not much, but we haven't eaten all day, and we need energy if we're going to get up and move tomorrow."

Truth be told, he still wants to yell at her. It _was_ irresponsible, and he doesn't know what she was thinking, letting two underclassmen go off on their own, even if it was just to fetch food. They could have been spotted or attacked or worse, and the very idea sends shivers up his spine. And then he sees the food piled on the floor, sees Drizzle and Joel and River and Oliver eating happily, and he thinks maybe it doesn't matter if was irresponsible or not (which it was).

He sighs in defeat and plops down on the floor between Joel and Oliver. "Whatever," he says, picking up a red berry.

Sometimes he forgets he's only fifteen, that he's only one or two or three years older than the kids he's caring for. It's the same with Oralee; she tries to act so mature for her age, tries to stand in as a mother and older sister all in one, but she's just as old and as young as he is. It used to irritate him, the way she tried to act so much older than she really was, but now it's different. Now he appreciates it, wants more of it, wants to emulate it even. He isn't used to playing the parent, to caring about rules or his consequences or how they affect others, and being in this position honestly makes him nervous. He isn't used to people depending on him.

Oralee gingerly sits next to him. "I didn't mean to give you a scare. They were all getting pretty worried about you, actually, especially Joel. They said they were going out to get food, but I knew he was just hoping to get a glimpse of you and make sure you were alright."

Thistle doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't.

"You're pretty good at acting like you don't care, but you're a lot more impressive when you actually do." He gapes at her, but she just smiles and then gets up and walks over to talk to Drizzle and River. He watches her, the way she interacts so cheerfully with the other girls, as though they're sitting around a campfire on a friendly, enjoyable trip. He looks at Joel, who looks excited as he picks up the berries he helped gather, then at Oliver, who's actually smiling.

It's a bit ironic, he thinks, how happy he feels.

* * *

><p>Darkness has fallen, and Skyloh and Altair finally choose their resting place for the night. The outside is a replication of the President's House, which is situated near the Academy - or in this case, the Cornucopia. The inside, as expected, is barren.<p>

"Good thing we came prepared, uh?" Skyloh asks as she pulls out her sleeping bag and unrolls it. "We better get a good night's sleep, then head out early in the morning. Maybe when it's still a bit dark outside… Hopefully we'll actually see someone tomorrow. You'd think it'd be easy to find thirty-two kids running around a huge city like this, but…"

"Thirty-one," Altair corrects, without thinking.

She thinks of Ruby, swallows, and nods. "Thirty-one." Skyloh slips inside the sleeping bag, pulls it up so that it's tucked right under her chin. When she turns her head to see Altair, he's still sitting on top of his, fiddling with a piece of beef jerky. "Hey." She catches his attention and he smiles impishly. "Don't worry." The words are hollow, but he appreciate her sentiments nonetheless. There's no point in worrying since they've already hit rock bottom.

"Yeah." He finishes off his snack as he unzips his sleeping bag and lays down inside of it.

As they close their eyes, they hear two canons go off in the distance.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Down in the Valley" - The Head and the Heart<p>

_Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways..._

* * *

><p>This will be the last update (more likely than not) before I leave for college. I'll be on a thirteen-hour car ride, so I might be able to crank one out the 19th20th, but I won't make any promises. Also, this should have been out earlier but I kept distracting myself with the Olympics and the first season of Glee (guilty pleasure, oops), so… Meh. I sorrrryy.

But thank you for your support! I really can't express what it means to me when I see that you guys review - I just get so happy and it makes my day. Thank you, thank you, and I hope to hear from you all soon!

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	14. keep on living

Author's Note:

I didn't remember how much time I waste/don't have in college, and how difficult it is to get writing time in until I got back, ha ha. I've unpacked everything, though, and classes have started so this is just the beginning, eel. Still, thank you all for sticking with me, and please know that I will always love and appreciate your support.

Also, I want to apologize for any characters I may seem to overshadow or leave out. Most will get their limelight, I promise, but I will admit that there are some that are a bit more difficult to write than others. Still, if you continue to support me, your character will have their shining moment(s)!

Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter: **ckrets**, **initia nova**, **Rikachan101**, **Trapped in Narnia**, **cassie glitter**, **pie eater 3001**, and **fishpuppy**.

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Thirteen  
>Keep On Living<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "I Want It AllWe Will Rock You Mash-Up (feat. Armageddon aka Geddy)" - Queen

* * *

><p>The world is ending.<p>

Mykal is screaming and crying, and no matter what Rea says, she won't calm down. She's chanting Keldon's name over and over again like a mantra, like it's going to bring him back, like it's going to erase his smiling face from the image in the sky. She claws at the ground and pounds her fists, but then she crumples into Rea's comforting arms and just _cries_ because she doesn't know what else to do. She sobs and hiccups and tries to hide her face in her hands, but nothing can hide the rivers of tears pouring down her cheeks.

Korra just watches from the sideline as Rea rocks the younger girl back and forth, whispers words of support that Mykal probably doesn't hear. Rea holds her and cries with her because she knows what it's like to love someone, but Korra can't sympathize because she has always viewed friendships and relationships as a weakness. Rea loves and fears to lose, just as Mykal now experiences, but Korra doesn't know what it's like to have that fear.

She's better off.

Mykal goes to bed sniffing and with blotchy red eyes that are sure to swell in the morning, and Rea lays next to her as a figure of solace. It's late - pure darkness is all that she sees when she looks outside - but Korra can't sleep, so she decides to walk around. She thinks about letting Rea know (because Mykal is too emotionally unstable to talk to anyone right now), but her old roommate has already fallen asleep. With a wistful look at the two over her shoulder, she steps out.

The night air is chilly, but her Capitol-supplied jacket keeps her well-protected from the breeze. Korra doesn't wander far, just enough to get a breath of fresh air and to get away from the stifling atmosphere of her alliance. She hadn't been keen on the idea of an alliance, but Rea approached her the night before the Games and said that Mykal and Keldon wanted to include the two of them in their alliance. She wanted to say no - almost did, really - but Rea had been her roommate and one of the few people she didn't completely dislike. She's not sure if she could call Rea her friend (Korra doesn't really have _friends_), but she cares about her.

Rea is sweet and kind and optimistic, and though she's not a social butterfly, she has plenty of friends. People enjoy her company because she's genuinely interested in them and because she always looks to the bright side of things. She gets along well with others because of her easygoing personality, something that Korra can hardly claim to have. Korra is rough and hard and completely anti-social, and people flee to her the same way they flock to Rea. Sometimes she thinks she's envious of the girl from District 3, but she always tells herself that it's better this way, that being surrounded by people just isn't her thing anyway. Especially not now.

Honestly, Korra has thought about leaving the alliance in the past couple of days. Aside from Rea, she has never had a reason for staying, and even with Keldon gone she still doesn't have one. Mykal and Rea get along fine, and she's sure they'll be fine on their own. (Rea proved herself to be an able fighter if necessary when she fought off Terra, and Korra knows that Mykal is strong physically, even if Keldon's death has taken a toll on her emotional mentality.) They don't need her, and she knows for a fact that she doesn't need them.

She hears the crunch of gravel nearby and quickly pulls herself out of her thoughts. Korra stands stark still, simply listening, and slowly inches her hand to the knives in her pockets.

"Who's there?" The voice is cautious and masculine, and incredibly familiar. Even if she knows who it is (rather, especially because she knows who it is), Korra stands her ground and wraps her fingers around the handle of her knife. Hawk keeps walking towards her, though, until they're almost standing toe-to-toe and she can see gold of his eyes. "Korra," he says evenly, and she notices the way his gaze quickly darts to the hand hidden in her jacket pocket. "What are you doing here?"

"What are_ you _doing here?" she shoots back.

"Taking a nice night stroll," he replies, so casually that she actually has to restrain herself from smacking him. "It's a little dumpy, the place we're staying at, so I thought I'd get a breath of fresh air. Fancy meeting you here."

She bites her tongue at his sarcasm, decides then that she doesn't like him at all. "Yeah, fancy that."

"You don't sound too happy to see me."

"Sorry. I'm not all that great at welcoming parties." Korra doubts that he'd attack her, not without a real incentive, but she still doesn't feel safe with him here.

He can read it in her eyes, the fear mixed with the resolve; he identifies it as the same look he sees every time he sees his own reflection. "I'm not gonna attack you." She flinches, just at his bluntness and the mere idea behind his words, but he doesn't laugh mockingly or jeer at her. He doesn't snort, like she expects him to, but instead just looks at her with such intensity that she can't help but cringe.

"Stop," she says.

Hawk raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Stop looking at me like you can read me, like you understand what I'm feeling. It's pissing me off." While she seethes at him, he doesn't react, which adds fuel to her simmering anger. "Why are you here?" she hisses. "You basically said it yourself - none of us are classmates anymore. We have nothing more to offer each other anymore. Nothing good, anyway." Korra swallows thickly. "So you must want _something_."

Then he smiles wryly, and she shrinks back. "I don't want anything," he says. "Everything I told you was the truth. I'm just walking around, and I happened to run into you. It's just a coincidence." Korra finds it hard to believe in consequences, especially in these circumstances, and he sees this on her face. "I promise," he adds, with a small smirk that does little to ease her contempt. "Besides, I'm weapon-free. Give me a pat down if you don't trust me." He holds up his arms for emphasis.

Korra scoffs. "Please, you're not that stupid."

_'That_ stupid,' he mouths, mostly to himself, before shaking his head. "Yeah, alright, maybe not completely weaponless. It'd be suicide to walk around without being able to defend myself." He scratches his head as he runs his fingers through his disheveled brown hair. "Actually, I'm searching for Altair. We still haven't run into him, and his face hasn't popped up in the sky, so he's definitely still alive. We figured it'd be easier to search for him at night, while everyone else is still asleep."

"Hm," is all she says. Hawk, Altair, and Luke - the three of them are close, have been close for years now, so it shouldn't surprise her that they'd be searching for their missing friend. Even so, the idea of groping around blindly in the dark, even if it's for a friend, just sounds stupid.

"What?" he teases with his well-known smirk. "You're not gonna try convince me that you hate him, too, are you?"

It's true, that no one in their right mind could hate Altair, but Korra rolls her eyes because being not hated isn't going to save him from the Hunger Games. In the end, what's a reputation to a group of kids who are going to be dead by the end of the month? It doesn't matter if she likes or hate Altair because it doesn't come down to that - it comes down to who's going to kill who. It's the same for Hawk, she thinks bitterly, who's just searching for a friend he might have to kill.

"What's the point?" she asks.

He cocks his head to the side curiously. "The point of what?"

"The point of searching," she answers. "What's the point of searching for someone who you know is going to die? It doesn't matter if he's alive now, does it? It doesn't matter if he's unwounded or sick or anything, because he'll probably end up in the same place. Altair's too nice to kill anyone, so there's no way he can win this thing. And if it does come down to the two of you, one of you is going to have to die anyway. It doesn't really matter if you're friends."

The way she speaks is so rational and logical that even she is surprised. The words, though spoken in her voice, aren't hers at all, and she flinches, biting down on her tongue. Across from her, Hawk's brow is furrowed and his lips are set in a straight line. She thinks she sees anger, and for a moment her heart leaps in her chest.

"You wouldn't understand," he says finally, after a too-long period of silence. "You wouldn't get it, because you don't know what it's like to have friends." She knows that he doesn't mean to insult her, that he's merely stating a fact, but still for some reason she feels hurt. It's no secret that Korra Blackthorne isn't a people person, and this certainly isn't the first time that someone has said this to her. Maybe it's just the situation, then - the high stakes and the vicious killing children - that makes her feel so much more alone than she ever has.

"It's easy for you," he continues, eyes boring into hers, "in these Games. You don't have to worry about how your friends are doing. You're not constantly bottled with concern over who's alive and who's dead, not having nightmares about killing your best friend or never seeing him again. You just have to watch your own back, not have to worry about others… I'm a bit envious. It's constantly eating me up inside - who might not make it to morning or the next day. It sucks."

"I don't have it easy," Korra replies irritably as she wraps her arms around her shivering form. The wind has picked up. "It's harder because I'm on my own. I don't have anyone to watch my back or let me know if something is coming. I have to constantly listen and watch and look around or else I'm done for." It doesn't matter that she's with Mykal and Rea - because, ultimately, she doesn't trust them. Even when she's with them, she's alone, constantly fending for herself. There is no sense of safety or camaraderie in her alliance. "I'm always paranoid because it's just me. Always just me." When she thinks she sees pity in his eyes, she growls. "But I'm better off."

"Maybe." The stare off last for several solid moments before she tears her gaze away, scoffing at the ground. Hawk chuckles, breaking the tension. "Well, it's been fun, but I better head back. Altair's definitely not around, anyway." He turns around and goes back the same way he came, but he makes sure to stop to look at her over his shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Korra."

When he's gone, her feet are rooted to the same spot. Her fingers, which have been wrapped around the throwing knife the entire time, do not relax. With narrowed eyes and a firmly set jaw, she murmurs, "I always do."

* * *

><p>Skyloh is up before the sun rises. She can't sleep, just tosses and turns and inwardly moans about how no position is comfortable. Altair is fast asleep despite the dip in his brow, and she watches him enviously for a moment before completely discarding the notion of sleep. She slips out of her sleeping bag and grabs her axe before quietly slipping out the door. Once outside, she takes in a deep breath of air, and for a moment she thinks she's back home.<p>

A stuttered gasp brings her back to reality, and quickly she's on the defense with her axe ready to strike. When she squints, she manages to make out the small figure in the darkness. "Joel?" she asks, slowly lowering her weapon.

"Skyloh?" he breathes back.

Though she doesn't completely drop her guard, she inches toward him until she make out all of his features. "Joel," she reiterates, this time smiling softly. "Geez, you scared me, kid." She tussles his hair, an affection action she picked up from caring for her brother. "How are you doing? Are you alright?" Honestly, he and Stark aren't very much alike personality wise or in terms of appearance, but their proximity in age spurns a sad longing in her heart for her younger brother. She imagines Stark having to go through this sort of ordeal, and her insides churn.

"I'm fine," he answers with a nod. "Oralee, Drizzle, and I wanted to go gathering berries and food early, before anyone else woke up, but we managed to get separated." He rubs his head out of both nervousness and embarrassment. "I was afraid you were someone else," he murmurs, so quietly that Skyloh can barely make out what he says.

She doesn't ask what he means because his expression says enough. Though all of them have been thrown into this mess more or less unprepared, some have adapted to the situation much quicker than the others. Skyloh knows, because she has been in this class with them for half a year, that killers aren't just that, that there's more behind an action than the action itself. To the victim and to those who are running away afraid, however, the intentions and the feelings and the thoughts behind the killer don't really matter. Joel, as intelligent and mature as he may be, especially for a twelve-year-old, is still just that - a child, and no child is prepared to face a killer.

"Well, you got lucky," she says reassuringly. "But be a little more careful next time, eh? What if instead of me, you ran into huge, lumbering Cole?" She'd meant it as a joke, but the immediate fear in his eyes expresses how terrifying the very idea is. Skyloh swallows thickly, rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. "Look, why don't you stay with me and Altair, at least until the sun rises?"

Joel thinks about declining because he imagine how worried Oralee must be, but rationally he decides that it's for the best. He isn't physically strong, so already he's at a disadvantage, but now he must also deal with the problems that come with wandering around in the dark. "Okay."

The platinum blonde grins, relieved. "Great. We're just over here." He almost protests when she takes his hand, but its warmth gives him a sense of protection and instead he holds on tighter. When they step into the building, Altair is still asleep. "Geez, I wish I could sleep like him… Barely got any last night." Joel watches her curiously as she begins digging through her sleeping bag. "Here, catch." He fumbles with the item she throws at him, dropping it to the ground accidentally in the process.

"Food?" he asks, blinking at the bag of beef jerky.

"To share," she explains, "with the others. I'm sure you'll all get sick of berries soon, so try not to eat it all at once. It'll probably be a stretch, but there should be enough for all of you. There's you, River, Oliver, Drizzle, Oralee…"

"And Thistle."

Her hazel eyes blink in surprise. "Thistle? Well, that's surprising."

"He's great," Joel says, jumping to the older boy's defense immediately. He's a bit embarrassed when he realizes how loud he was, as he sees Altair shift slightly. Thistle has never been the token student, but despite his harsh words and heavy glare, Joel trusts him. Joel is all books and brains and knowledge, things that Thistle certainly is not, but there's something in Thistle that Joel admires. "I mean, he's not a bad guy."

Skyloh chuckles, not with ridicule. "I know. He's a bit of a brat, but I know Thistle's a good guy."

Joel blushes, embarrassed. "Oh."

She doesn't tease him, though. Instead, she motions for him to take a seat next to her on the sleeping bag. "There's someone coming around the corner," she says calmly, so that he doesn't feel a jump of fear. Skyloh raises a finger to her lips, but otherwise remains completely still as two figures stand in front of the window.

"I don't know how much I trust them, to be honest," a feminine voice murmurs. "Maybe this isn't a good idea. We can just stop now, you know, while it's still early. It'd be better for us."

"I don't know," her companion replies hesitantly. "We promised each other and… Well, honestly, we're the ones who went up to them first about the alliance. Don't you think they'd be really mad?"

She scoffs. "Oh please. Lorea hates us - and don't even try to deny it, Mattheo. You know how she looks at us. If it weren't for Lewis, I doubt she'd still be here."

"Alright, maybe there is something wrong with Lorea. But still, Lewis is a good guy. He likes us and we like him; it wouldn't be fair if we just left him behind now, just because we don't get along with his sister. It's not like she's going to do anything to us, anyway. She got a really low score, and I doubt she's strong… It can't hurt to just have her around."

"Fine," she says. "For Lewis. I know, though, that he'd leave if Lorea left. It probably wouldn't be a bad thing, either."

"Riley…"

"Let's keep going. The sun will be rising soon, so they'll be wondering where we are." The footsteps start up again. "I hope we find Terra soon."

Skyloh steals a glance at Joel, who's face pales with Riley mentions the dark-haired girl's name. It's only been a couple of days since they last saw Terra, but he's obviously been working pretty hard to forget her completely. Joel and Ruby were the same age, and he had to watch her die. Skyloh wouldn't doubt if he had nightmares of the one who killed her.

"They're gone," she says, just to break the silence because she can see the faraway look in his eye. Next to them, Altair stirs, and finally his eyes crack open to greet the small rays of light that stream into their room. "Well, good morning, sunshine," she sings, grinning at the fatigue on his face. "I found us a friend while you were snoozing."

"Oh," Altair says as he sits up, rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, Joel." The auburn-haired male tries to smile reassuringly, but the younger boy only nods. "Sorry, I've been asleep for so long," he directs to Skyloh. "I guess it finally caught up to me."

She shrugs. "No problem. We should all get sleep if we can." In the light, she can make out the bags under Joel's eyes. "Well, since we're all up, let's get moving."

* * *

><p>Phoenix gasps when Lila comes barreling at him out of no where. A yelp of surprise escapes his lips and he tumbles backwards, awkwardly winding his feet in a jumble that has him crashing to the ground. She's on him in that split second, one of her dual blades pressed firmly to the skin of his neck. "Hey there," she greets, like they're sitting across from each other at the dinner table. "You look a little lost."<p>

"Stop," is all he manages to say.

"Hm? What's that? I can't really hear you." She smirks mockingly at him, but lifts the blade so that there's a sliver of space between his neck and the blade. "You should speak up - it's bad manners, you know. Didn't your parents ever teach you how to talk to a lady?"

"Ladies," he says with a dark look in his amber eyes, "not savages."

Her lip curls ferociously at the insult, but Lila has been called worse by more important people. She uses her free hand to tap his cheek mockingly. "Ooo, that's cruel, especially for you, Phoenix. I always took you for a District 13 gentleman." She presses the flat part of the blade against his throat, but he doesn't dare gulp or breathe too hard. "I bet you wish you hadn't screwed around so much now, huh? I bet you wish you had taken everything more seriously, hadn't've tried to laugh everything off as a joke. It's definitely not gonna help you here, not in this place."

"I bet you're getting a real kick out of it, aren't you, Lila?" he asks, trying to remain calm. "Running around with swords in your hands, threatening kids and scaring them away. You're finally in a position of power after being oppressed your entire life. You've finally got your freedom."

The mocking on her glee quickly morphs into a sneer. "You've got me all figured out, haven't you?"

He smiles, but there's nothing friendly behind it. "You're not that difficult to figure out."

Phoenix experiences a flash of terror when Lila drops the blades and grasps him by the collar. "You're hardly one to judge me, Phoenix. You've had a very happy life - and don't you dare try to deny it. Your family loves you and gives you all the attention you need, which is great because everyone knows you'll wither without it. You left 13 because you were _bored_ and you wanted something exciting to happen. This is exciting, isn't it? Running around like an animal, driven by pure primitive fear? Isn't it _exciting_?"

He holds his breath, not daring to respond.

"I left because I was suffocating. My parents controlled every aspect of my life. They wanted me to be perfect, they wanted me to impress their friends and colleagues - but I was never good enough, and they never let me live it down. I bet they're watching now, pointing out everything I've done wrong and everything I should fix. Mom's a Peacemaker and Dad's a Commander; all they ever think about is looking presentable. They couldn't have a daughter who didn't live up to their perfection, you know. They were disappointed when I was born, I'm sure. Thought I was too small, too pale, to frail - not a natural soldier. I was a disappointment from the very start."

Lila throws him back against the ground, grabs both of her blades, and crosses them over his neck threateningly. "I trained at least two hours a day, because they wanted me to go into the military. I was supposed to get stronger, faster, bigger. I thought it was all so stupid, but maybe they're proud of me now. Maybe they're seeing that they didn't waste time on me because I'm actually doing alright."

Phoenix swallows thickly. "You're not a killer, Lila."

It's only there for a moment, but he sees the hesitation and dread. "None of us were born killers," she answers evenly. "But we don't have a choice."

The brush beside them rustles softly; they both stop to listen. "Phoenix?" calls a voice nearby. "Phoenix, are you here? We think we might have found Altair, and we might be able to catch up with him if we go now…"

Phoenix doesn't dare call out for Catcher because of the position he's in. Strangely, even Lila is reluctant to act. He knows, then, that she hadn't been planning on actually killing him, and now she must decide if she will or not. When Catcher steps into the clearing, and when he and Lila stare each other down, Phoenix uses the distraction to jerk his hips upwards and throw her off of him. Lila yelps as she falls, dropping the dual blades in the process.

Catcher is by his side immediately, pulling him up so that he's standing on his feet, then kicks her weapons away before she can reclaim them. "Well, this is a nice little District 13 reunion, isn't it?" he asks. "Long time no see, Lila, darling. How are you today?"

She spits at him viciously, and her fingers twitch because now she's defenseless. "Just great," she snaps. Phoenix notices her gaze shifting to the blades. "Too bad Allegra isn't here, huh? Then it'd really be a reunion."

"Yeah, too bad," Catcher says, without any real emotion. All of them know that neither he nor Phoenix want to confront the cold fifteen-year-old. "What are you planning on doing now?" he asks, cutting to the point. "No weapons, no allies, no way out - are you still gonna try to take on both of us?"

Lila is strong and certainly more prepared for these Hunger Games than most of her classmates. She is confident in her abilities to fight and she knows for a fact that she's powerful, but she's definitely not stupid, and taking on both Catcher and Phoenix would be a stupid move. "Tch. Whatever." She turns to leave, but Catcher calls her name and she's surprised to see that he's kicked her blades back towards her. Lila quirks an eyebrow at him, sensing a trap.

"Don't get yourself killed," he instructs, then silently notions for Phoenix to leave with him. The blond follows, but he steals a quick glance at the stunned Lila. She doesn't glare at him the way he expects her to; the lost expression she wears stirs something in his chest that he thinks might be sympathy.

* * *

><p>The replica buildings are the ideal place for hiding and waiting. It's impossible to see into many of the rooms because some of the buildings are so large, and there are so many that one can't even begin to guess if one building is empty or not. For Allegra and Cole, one of the skyscrapers is their current sanctuary.<p>

In their alliance, Lila is definitely the most talkative. Cole has always been an individual of few words, choosing to stick to himself than get to know his classmates, and the same can more or less be said for Allegra. Despite obvious differences in appearance and height and size, the two are very much alike in terms of composure and personality.

Though she honestly has nothing against Lila, as the redhead has proven to be extremely strong and therefore a useful asset, Allegra appreciates Cole's preference for silence. She can hear everything so much more clearly when no one's trying to talk, can really pay attention to what's around her and who may be approaching. Lila is powerful, but she's restless and constantly moving, so it's difficult to be on the look out when someone's fidgeting so much. With Cole, Allegra doesn't have that problem at all.

She sits at the window with one hip perched on the sill and her bow and arrow at the ready. They had taken what they needed and wanted from the Cornucopia, then began their move early in the afternoon the previous day. They left behind what they deemed unnecessary, or simply what couldn't be carried, but it wasn't much. Lila left earlier to see what was left; Allegra doubts very much is left, if anything at all.

There are only twenty-nine of them left, and Allegra knows that's only the tip of the ice berg. She wields her bow and arrow with confidence and resolve, because she knows it's either eat or be eaten, but deep down she's scared. She can shoot to disarm and she can shoot to scare - but can she shoot to actually kill? She has to, she knows, if she wants any chance of getting out of this place and going back home (not that there's anything or anyone waiting for her), but the thought of actually killing someone terrifies her. Allegra remembers the look on Terra's face after she killed Ruby; she remembers the horror and the immediate regret and these are two feelings that Allegra has never experienced before. Allegra wants to be strong, but she doesn't want to be a killer.

"Someone's there." Her head jerks up at the sound of Cole's voice, and her eyes quickly zoom in on red hair. She raises her gaze to meet his, and she recognizes the expectance - she recognizes what he wants her to do.

Allegra aligns the arrow with the bow, situates herself on the window sill so she has perfect aim at the passerby. She takes in a breath and waits. In the silence, she can hear Cole's quiet urging and his growing irritation.

As she releases, her breath hitches.

* * *

><p>Blinding pain suddenly sears through Rain's shoulder, and she hits the ground like a ton of bricks. She barely manages to stifle a sob as she forces herself to sit up so that she can wind an arm around to see the cause of pain. When her fingers brush against wood, she has to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out.<p>

"Rain!" Seeing her on the ground, Nyle runs to herself and crouches down. With concern, he places a hand on her back to keep her steady, then wearily eyes the arrow protruding from her back. Pure fury surges through his being as he looks around, searching for the perpetrator. Something high above catches his attention before weaving out of sight, but Nyle sees the open window and he knows that they are not alone.

"Take it out," Rain gasps, holding onto him so tightly that her knuckles are white. "Please."

Nyle is absolutely at a loss. He doesn't know how to tend to injuries with a first aid kit, let alone pulling out an arrow. His fingers shake as they inch towards the entry wound, but he quickly pulls away and shakes his head. "I can't," he replies despairingly. "I don't know how to."

"Just pull it out." He can hear the desperation in her voice. "We have wraps and medicine, just - just, please. I can't take it out myself." Her breathing is shallow now.

Cole and Allegra come skidding out of the building, and instantly the former adopts a look of disgust. "You missed," he says to his smaller companion.

"Sorry," Allegra snaps, but there's obvious apprehension behind it - and fear.

Rain is in too much pain to glare at the duo across from them, but her heart has dropped and she has never felt so useless in her entire life. Beside her, though, Nyle is seething and looks ready to fight. "You did this," her ally says, directing his accusation more at Cole than the actual shooter.

Cole smirks as he pulls his sword from its sheath. When Allegra sees the blade glimmer in the sunlight, she takes a step away from him. "If you think you can take me on, try it."

Nyle exaggeratedly rolls his eyes at the weapon. "What, you need a sword to fight me off? Can't fight me with your bare hands?" The smirk instantly drops from the dark-haired boy's face, along with the deadly sword in his grip. Nyle takes up a stance, both fists in front of him, and Cole comes barreling towards him.

Nyle is no pushover - he is an esteemed fighter, trained in hand-to-hand combat. Cole might have spent all of his free time at the gym, and his build may give him the advantage over every tribute in this arena, but what he has in sheer strength Nyle has in skill. Cole's punches are strong, but Nyle's are quick and he can get in two whereas his opponent can only get in one. He delivers a swift uppercut to Cole's nose, pushing him back and forcing him to stagger away.

Cole looks absolutely terrifying as he clutches his broken nose, his fingers and teeth red with blood. Nyle remains composed, though, ready to fight for himself, so he doesn't flinch when Cole aims a punch at his face, is blocked, then knees Nyle firmly in the stomach. Nyle keels over the blow, gasping for air. Cole uses the momentum to press his fingers firmly against the back of Nyle's head and crack his face against his rising knee.

Nyle actually screams from the pain as he falls to his knees. Bright colors dance before his closed eyes and his ears are ringing, and the hurt is so intense everything just feels numb.

Cole feels no sympathy for the crumbled body on the ground. He walks over to Nyle in long, confident strides, picks him up by the collar of his jacket, and hits him so hard that his neck snaps loudly to the side. Rain shouts for her ally, whose body is flung to the ground carelessly. She can't even bring herself to look into Cole's blank eyes as he stalks over to Nyle's now lifeless body. "Too bad," he says blandly. "I thought you'd be a challenge." He presses the bottom of his boot to the skin of Nyle's neck, then raises it, and -

Allegra looks to the side and closes her eyes as her heart leaps to her throat. Rain sobs dryly and presses her face against the cool ground. Cole looks down, with neither a smirk nor a frown, and walks away as though he hasn't just killed someone with his bare hands.

When he directs his attention to Rain, who's trying to pull herself up, she thinks she might scream. He scrutinizes her like a piece of meat, like she's nothing more than an animal for the hunt. Apparently deeming her unworthy, Cole shrugs and walks back over to Allegra, but not before picking up his sword. "Someone else will finish her off," he says. "Let's go."

Allegra doesn't follow him immediately. She shares a long look with Rain; there's no hate or anger in the redhead's eyes, just confusion and fear. Allegra realizes she identifies with her - the girl on the ground with an arrow in her back - and she takes her leave.

* * *

><p>Dahlia isn't crying anymore, but Zook can see a vacantness in her eyes that wasn't there before. Lana urges them forward because it's unsafe to stay in one place for too long, but he notices that she's trying to skirt around their friend as well. Every time there's a crunch of gravel or hiss of wind, Dahlia instantly grabs for one of their hands, and though he's tried to disregard it he can't completely forget the momentary expression of pure terror.<p>

"Why don't we take a break?" he suggests. "It's gotta be midday by now. We've been walking all morning… I don't know where else we can go."

"Away from the others - isn't that the general idea?" Lana asks, though she comes to a stop.

"How much longer can we run away, though?"

Both of them glance at Dahlia, but she catches them this time and she scowls. "I'm fine, you guys," she says, not particularly convincingly. "Seriously. Don't worry about me." She folds her arms across her chest and looks at their surroundings. They're in the living area of the city now, in a popular neighborhood filled with colorful houses and bright lawns. Dahlia lives just a couple blocks down from this one, Zook remembers. "I am a little tired, though…"

"We'll take a break then," he decides, regardless of what Lana is going to say. "At least until nightfall. It might be easier to travel under the dark, anyway, since the others will likely be asleep."

"Or they might have figured out that strategy already," Lana corrects. "But… yeah. I guess I'm tired, too."

They decide on the closest house, but before they open the door, Lana gestures for them to wait. "Just in case," she whispers, raising a finger to her lips. She wraps her fingers around the door knob carefully, but before she can twist it, the knob jiggles. She jumps back, gasping in surprise, and the door thrusts open -

"Terra," Zook says.

She's frazzled and scared, that much is obvious. "She was already like this when I found her," Terra breathes. "I swear." Lana and Zook's expressions of confusion mirror each other, but Dahlia is already worming around them and poking her head inside. "I swear!" she reiterates hysterically when Dahlia gasps and takes a step back.

Zook gently pushes Dahlia to the side so he can see what she's talking about. What he sees causes bile to rise in his throat, and he has to step away in order to retain his composure. Kate is laying on the blue carpet, her body thin and emaciated. Her skin is tinted blue, especially her face, her sunken eyes have rolled back into her skull, and white foam gurgles from her pale lips. Her brown hair waves around her body in thick tangles.

"You killed her," Dahlia whispers, unable to tear her eyes away.

"I didn't!" Terra shrieks. "I just wanted a place to stay, so I came here and… and she was just here! I didn't do it! I didn't touch her! I haven't killed anyone since…!" She looks into Dahlia's eyes desperately, but when she does, something changes on her face; she looks much more feral and unforgiving. "You've done it."

Dahlia swallows. "Done what?"

Terra scoffs. "You've done it. You've killed someone. I can see it - in your eyes. There's something not quite right with you."

Before she can stop herself, Dahlia slaps her, and everything around them comes to pause. "It wasn't on purpose," Dahlia whispers, like she's still trying to convince herself of the truth. "I didn't do it because I wanted to. He scared me and I- I didn't know it was him. I didn't mean to."

"None of us are doing it because we want to," Terra murmurs. Dahlia's eyes keep drawing to the red mark on her cheek. "But it doesn't matter why you did it or if it wasn't on purpose. You've lost your innocence, Dahlia. You're no better than me."

Dahlia screams as she jumps on top of Terra and pummels her to the ground. Fists and open palms are flying everywhere as Terra screeches underneath her and tries to throw Dahlia off. Zook and Lana are quick to pull their friend back, but she's still thrashing about and crying, and Terra has fresh scratches on her face. "You're losing it because you know it's true!" Terra shouts, tears in her own eyes. "You can feel yourself slipping away because all you can see is them bleeding and turning white and dying."

"I didn't mean to!" Dahlia sobs, her body falling limp against Zook and Dahlia. "I didn't, I didn't, I didn't…!"

Zook reluctantly extends his hand to Terra, but she slaps it away and stands up on her own, though a bit shakily. "This isn't our fault, but we have to pay our dues," Terra says hollowly, backing up. "You can't run away from it forever." Her eyes travel from the wailing Dahlia, to Zook, and to Lana. She keeps her jaw tight as she finally looks at Kate, who was always so quiet and invisible. Terra shakes her head as she turns on her heel and walks off, not even bothering to check her shoulder to make sure she's safe.

They don't pursue her, though, because Dahlia is a mess on the ground and Zook and Lana are trying to pick up the pieces. "Let's go," Lana says, as Zook picks up their friend. "We're probably not safe here, anyway. We'll find another place." Her gaze travels over the house, never quite lingering on the corpse in the living room.

Zook nods wordlessly as he wraps an arm around Dahlia's trembling form. "Okay. We'll keep going, then."

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Down in the Valley" - The Head and the Heart<p>

_Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways..._

* * *

><p>This took about a weeka week and a half to write, which isn't too bad. I wrote about a page a day, sooo hopefully I'll be able to keep it up throughout the school year? Haha. Well, anyway, I'm all moved in and getting into the swing of balancing school work and social time and working out and other fun festivities. I always love hearing from you guys, so let me know how you're doing as well! :)

Also, I'm doing something I saw another author do that I really liked. Since we're past the 150 mark for reviews (!), I'm doing a little "contest" of sorts - **from review number 155 to number 165, a random number will be picked, and the number of that reviewer will have a chapter featured on their character/a character of their choice**. Basically, your review number (from 155 to 165, again) will be entered in a lottery and randomly picked, and then you'll be given the choice. The chapter will be shorter than normal chapters, but it'll be a fun character depth/past thing. Again, it can be for your own character or another one you'd like to see. Good luck! :)

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	15. intermission: cole nature

Author's Note:

First, I would like to thank everyone for their overwhelming support. Honestly, sometimes it almost brings me to tears when I see your words of encouragement (but mostly it just makes me smile). Sometimes I sound super formal because that's kinda just how I write, but I love love _love_ hearing from you guys, and every review just makes my day that much brighter. Thank you! :)

So **Trapped in Narnia** was the winner of the review contest, and she asked for more character depth of Cole. This is meant to be shorter than normal chapters, but I'm actually hoping to getting around to doing this for other characters as well. Also, I'm sorry I couldn't tackle all the requests in this chapter - I promise I'll try to get to them all/incorporate them somehow!

Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: **nudgeriderox**, **Clove25**, **cassia glitter**, **Guest**, **Trapped in Narnia**, **ckrets**, **pie eater 3001**, **shimmergirl109**, **smyle**, **Fishpuppy**, **aim for the heart**. All suggestions and criticisms and compliments are loved, and you guys really are the best. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Intermission  
>Cole Nature<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "Killing in the Name Of" - Rage Against the Machine<p>

* * *

><p>Maureen Nature is beautiful in every sense of the word: hourglass body, dark hair and lashes, bright green eyes, a perfectly white smile. She's sweet and kind and oh-so feminine, which is what attracts all the neighborhood boys to her. She is popular and well-mannered, kind and thoughtful, humble and selfless. Maureen is an absolute angel, and to Cole Nature, his hero and role model.<p>

Cole is only twelve when his older sister is killed. They write it off as a hit-and-run first, but when they discover the knife marks in her back, they realize she's the fifth victim of a rampant serial killer. They eventually find the man who did it (thirty-five-years-old, alcoholic, abused as a child, dumped by all his girlfriends and wives), but when they inject the death penalty into his system, Cole doesn't feel justice because Maureen is still gone.

Cole is only thirteen when his mother is carted off to the mental hospital. He remembers clearly how her face turns white after she hears about Maureen, how she stops talking to him and dad and Douglass, how she eventually stops moving. They diagnose her with depression, and the next day she tries to kill herself by hanging herself from the banister. Cole holds on tightly to Douglass's hand because Douglass is only nine and doesn't understand why their mother won't stop screaming or crying, or why men in white are rolling her away in a wheel chair.

Cole is only thirteen and nine months when his father leaves them. He sees the life drain from his father's eyes when Maureen dies, sees how he struggles to even be with his mother when she begins to ignore the rest of them, sees how he can't even look at him or Douglass anymore. It isn't a grand exit; he steals away in the middle of the night, with just his suit case and his favorite baseball cap (the one Maureen gave him for his forty-fifth birthday), and honestly, Cole isn't very surprised to wake up to find them with one less family member.

Cole isn't even fourteen, and he has watched his happy family fall apart in just two years. It's just him and Douglass, and Cole promises his younger brother that he won't let anything bad happen to their family.

He works at different workshops, cleaning up supplies and scrubbing off rust; he works at a number of restaurants, serving as either a bus boy or cook or cashier; he works at construction sites; sometimes he works as a newspaper boy or milk deliverer. Cole picks up any job he can so that he can support himself and Douglass. He doesn't want to go to the orphanage or seek the help of distant-but-rich relatives; it's part pride, part fear, and perhaps part anger. He thinks the bitterness and animosity and resentment began growing when he heard the casual voice of the policeman as he gave the report for Maureen's death, or maybe when his mother would look straight through him, or maybe when his father stopped responding to him. He's not sure where or when it was born, but he can feel it eating at him every day.

Cole is fifteen when he's coming home from scrubbing at restaurant floors for three hours, and a group of thugs pull him into an alleyway. When they're done with him, he's got two black eyes, a broken nose, a fractured wrist, and blood in the back of his throat. His wallet is missing, along with the groceries he bought; he and Douglass go without dinner that night.

Cole starts to work out. The training centers of the past have been transformed into well-supplied gyms, and with the extra money he makes, Cole manages to purchase a membership to one. When he's not working and making money, he's lifting weights and going for runs. He runs into one of the older boys that attacked him a year later, but neither one recognizes the other; Cole's grown in muscle and height, while the other is doing community service for shoplifting.

Douglass starts to see less and less of his brother, but he doesn't bother Cole because he knows how hard he's working. When Cole comes home at midnight one day, and when he sees Douglass fast asleep at the dinner table (with both plates of food completely untouched), he makes another promise: to spend more time with the only family that has ever stuck with him. The next morning, Cole and Douglass take a train up to the former Capitol and spend the entire day together.

Cole is sixteen when he's approached by a scout from the Academy of Unified Panem. He says that he's been watching Cole for a while now, that he's seen his incredible work ethic and determination and strength, that he'd be a perfect student at the Academy. Cole declines before the man can even make a proposition, but as Cole leaves, the man slips a card into his pocket. When Cole tries to throw it away later that night, Douglass asks him what it is and he disinterestedly tells his younger brother about the strange man and his Academy.

"You should do it," Douglass says, with no hesitation.

"We don't have the money," Cole replies.

"I bet they'd give you a scholarship. He sounds like he really liked you."

"I'm not gonna leave you here by yourself."

"But -"

"But nothing," he snaps, with finality. When he sees the hurt look on Douglass's face, he sighs and takes a seat beside him to ruffle his hair. "It's you and me, right, pal? It's always been you and me." He holds out his fist, and after only a moment of thought, Douglass bumps his own smaller fist against Cole's.

Cole returns from the gym the next day and finds the scout sitting at the dining room table; the only thing that holds him back from tearing out the bastard's throat is the fact that Douglass is serving him tea. Douglass calmly explains to him what he now knows about the Academy ("It's super famous and people try to get into it all the time, and you've gotta be _really_ special for them to give you a scholarship…"), and about how the school would make sure that Douglass was cared for while Cole was away. Cole looks (glares) at the scout, who affirms this and says that Douglass will be given a monthly stipend, and that Cole will be able to return home a number of times during the school year. Cole asks why him, and the scout says that the school sees great potential in him. Cole sends him away so he can think about it.

They argue about it for what seems like hours. It doesn't matter that he'll be taken care of financially, Cole says, because money can't replace company. Douglass and Cole are all that each other have. Douglass says he can't give up on his own life to take care of a broken family. Douglass says that Cole deserves this chance to really make something out of himself. Cole says he can't leave Douglass alone. Douglass says that Cole is afraid. Cole stops.

The paperwork takes weeks and the talks are endless, but soon they are moved out of their dingy apartment and into a complex funded by the Academy. Cole and Douglass spend all of their time together, because Cole no longer has to work to support them and the gym hardly seems to matter now, until it's the day before school.

Douglass makes him promise a number of things: to write home once a week, to not worry about him, to do well in school, to be more friendly. Cole is forced to release his younger brother when the train's horn goes off, and when the scout begins tugging on his jacket. Cole watches the figure of Douglass, standing next to the landlord of their expensive new home, until he fades into the distance.

Cole keeps as many promises as he can, though some are more difficult than others. He focuses hard in class so he does well on the tests, and when he isn't studying, he's in the gym. He doesn't enjoy the company of his peers very much; he hasn't been around his own age group in years. He feels ostracized from them, though he acknowledges that it's self-inflicted. He can't connect with them because they're so _different_. He doesn't know how to be friends with these kids.

Aside from that, Cole likes the solitude. He likes the peace of mind he has here, that he's never had before. Douglass is safe and his mother's medical bills have been tended to as well, and Cole no longer has to worry about putting food on the table or buying new shoes for his brother. Being alone, he appreciates the simplicity of life.

When he's in a group, he sees flashes of his family. He sees the beautiful, sweet sister in the face of one girl, the loving mother in another, the hard-working father in an upperclassman, the innocent brother in an underclassman. He doesn't feel at ease, though; he sees it all crumbling away, the way it so easily and so quickly did once before, and he hates it. In the blink of an eye, he sees Maureen's face covered in blood, his mother's lifeless eyes, his father's cowardice - he turns away before he can even imagine anything terrible happening to Douglass. Cole doesn't let himself get close to anyone, doesn't allow himself to make any friends, because Douglass is right: he is scared.

But it doesn't matter, because Cole has Douglass, and it has always been Cole and Douglass. It doesn't matter that Maureen left them and Mother forgot them and Father abandoned them, because they have each other. Cole doesn't need anyone else, because he has his younger brother.

Contra mundum.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Ready to Fall" - Rise Against<p>

_I took one last look from the heights that I once loved, and then I ran like hell_

* * *

><p>I was a little worried about this at first, because Cole's creator didn't give me much to work on, and he's always been kind of an enigmatic character (even for me, ha ha). Surprisingly, though, I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it!<p>

I'll probably be doing another one of these review contests/rewards again, but definitely not until I get a couple more chapters up. All the same, thank you for all your support! :)

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	16. sons and daughters

Author's Note:

I have this really bad habit of starting up too many stories at once and trying to juggle them all _but_ I have a really special place in my heart for this one. Also, school work/social life/other activities are cutting into my once abundant free time, so it's a little more difficult to devote time to these multi-chaptered fics.

I was really surprised by the positive reaction I got from Cole's chapter, ha ha. I was_ really _surprised that I actually managed to persuade some of you guys to seem him in another light (mostly because I'm still trying to persuade myself, ahaha.) It was super fun to write, so I'm thinking of doing another one of the review contests/challenges around the… 200th review, maybe? We'll see.

Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter: **Trapped In Narnia**, **smyle**, **aim for the heart**, **Rikachan101**, **Fishpuppy**, **cassie glitter**, **ckrets**, **Kirlina**, **Radio Free Death**.

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><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Fourteen  
>Sons and Daughters<p>

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><p>Opening Song: "I Will Try to Fix You" - Coldplay<p>

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><p>Councilman Mellark is absolutely furious. More than just anger, however, he feels an incredible sadness and despair that consumes him. He sobs when he sees the faces of the children killed, falls to his knees when President Mala refuses to issue a public or private apology, has to do everything in his power to keep from breaking down when he personally visits the families of the victims. Because that's what these children are: victims. They're victims to the Capitol, to an apathetic society, to a president who refuses to take action, to the ignorance thrust upon them by their parents and grandparents. They're victims of negligence who must now fight for themselves, amongst one another.<p>

This isn't the future Katniss Everdeen wanted.

"What are you going to do?" his girlfriend asks he frantically walks around the house. "What can you do? She's made it very obvious that she doesn't want you intruding or doing anything without her knowing." He continues his anxious pacing without really listening, and she sighs in irritation. "Gunnar, are you listening to me? I know you want to help these kids, but—"

"But what?" he asks challengingly.

She narrows her eyes. "I'm not your enemy Gunnar, so don't treat me like one."

His shoulders rise, like he's ready to debate and fight and yell, but her no-nonsense stance has him sighing in defeat. "Right, sorry. I'm just… really stressed, is all." He takes a seat on their bed and rubs the back of his neck, which has become painfully tense over the past week. "I don't know how I'm supposed to get her to listen to me. I've done everything I can to make her see what she's does, or what she's not doing, is wrong, but…" With a sympathetic and strained smile, she takes a seat beside him and massages his knotted muscles with her nimble fingers; he takes them in one hand and presses a kiss against her knuckles. "Sorry, Ariadne."

"It's rough," she says forgivingly with understanding. "Can't you convene the council and get them to override her decision? This isn't a dictatorship, after all. If all of you call her out on it, there's no way she can ignore it."

When he winces, Ariadne rolls her eyes in exasperation. "I tried."

"What do you mean?"

"I… threatened her to convene the council, and obviously it didn't turn out so well." He decides to neglect mentioning that he's been beaten up by her bodyguards more in one week than he's ever been accosted by anyone in his life. Granted, he could have gone about it in a much more strategical way (and with less profanity), but being polite hadn't really registered in his head at the time. "She told me not to visit her for another week, too, so I've basically been barred from the Justice Building."

Ariadne gives him a very poignant look. "These are kids' lives you're dealing with. You have to be more careful." He knows her words don't mean to wound, but they leave a rather painful sting anyway. "Maybe you should try talking to the other council members privately," she suggests, noticing how much more crestfallen he appears to be. "They like you a lot more than they like President Mala, so I'm sure they'd be willing to listen to you."

He nods. "Yeah, that's what I'd been planning on doing. I don't even want to think about the repercussions that would come if she found out, though…"

"That's why you need to be inconspicuous, hun," she states plainly. Ariadne stands up to return to the kitchen, where dinner still needs to be finished. "I can't imagine what she's thinking, though. She says they're like her children, but what parent just watches their children slaughter each other?"

Gunnar imagines the faces of the parents during the Hunger Games a century ago. He imagines the clean, proud faces of the parents from Districts 1 and 2, the ashen and burnt faces of the parents from District 12, the emaciated faces of the parents from District 11, and all the parents in between. He tries to imagine their reactions to watching their children fight and kill and maim on television, tries to imagine if they're angry or devastated or disappointed when their children fall. He imagines, and he realizes that for all those years parents "just watched" their children slaughter each other, regardless of their individual feelings or reactions.

"Yeah," he mumbles.

"Are you going to try to talk to them tonight?" He blinks at her in confusion, still recovering from being wrapped up in his own thoughts, and she sighs. "The other council members. It's better to get moving sooner rather than later, don't you think?"

Gunnar shakes his head. "No. I have to go somewhere tonight."

"Where?"

"To see mothers and fathers."

* * *

><p>She was only twelve-years-old.<p>

Her mother was dead, her father ignored her, and her brother worked so that both of them could stay alive. Ruby didn't have much in this world, but she approached everything with bright-eyed enthusiasm because she was still young and she was stronger than the world. Maybe it was better that she died early, before the realities and actualities of life could take their toll on her. Maybe it was better that she died with bright eyes and hope.

This is what her brother tries to convince himself of. He hasn't seen his father in over a month and it's likely that he doesn't know (and if he does, he certainly doesn't care), but he likes to think that at least their mother would be mourning. More than that, though, he likes to imagine that the two of them are together now, playing and laughing and singing, and that their mother is soothing Ruby and braiding her hair (he had never been good at it and she always complained when he left out random strands). Fir is alone now, and he only has himself to work for and feed, but thinking that they finally have each other eases him slightly.

When he hears a knock at his door, he's surprised to find a well-dressed gentleman standing there with a bouquet of flowers. (Well-dressed gentlemen don't really have a place in District 11.) The man wears a very solemn look, and Fir swears he might be holding back tears. "I'm looking for Mr. Samim," he says firmly, but with sympathy. Fir isn't too surprised to hear this; a number of people have stopped by to give their condolences, regardless of whether or not they knew Ruby. "These, ah…" He holds out the bouquet, which Fir takes with a grateful nod. "I'm Gunnar Mellark—"

"The head councilman," Fir identifies, eyes widening.

The blond smiles impishly. "Yes."

Fir's expression hardens. These people are the reason why Ruby is dead. These people and their inaction, their refusal to do _anything_ about the kidnapped children — they're why she suffered, why she died at _twelve_, why he had to watch as a sword pierced through her body. The anger that has been suppressed by despair is growing and spreading, and Gunnar notices because he quickly takes a step back. "Please, let's just talk," he says calmly, like the politician he is. "Please." Though red is invading his vision, Fir acquiesces and allows the man to come in, if not because he wants a chance to beat him without anyone seeing, then because he sees something genuine in his apologetic gaze.

Gunnar stands around awkwardly until Fir motions for him to take a seat in one of the two chairs at the table. Fir doesn't join him, though; instead, he stands on the other side of the table with his arms crossed, so that he's staring down at the man he's decided to blame for his sister's death. The councilman isn't the one who kidnapped her and it wasn't him who wielded the sword that ended her life, but he did nothing to save her and that's just as bad. Fir can so barely contain his growing animosity that he has to turn away from Gunnar and preoccupy himself with tonight's dinner. Several tense moments pass, with only the sound of his knife chopping vegetables against the cutting board, until finally he stops. When Gunnar looks over his direction, he sees that Fir's grip around the knife is turning his knuckles white. "Why are you here?" he asks finally, his words heavy and pained.

"To say sorry." It's authentic, Fir can tell, but it does nothing to quell the storm raging inside of him. "To… apologize."

"An apology isn't going to bring her back."

"I know."

Fir drops the knife before he swivels around to glower at the councilman, who sits upright and strong regardless. "Then why the hell are you here!?" he demands soothingly. If this is nothing more than protocol, and if Councilman Mellark is just going from house to house apologizing for his government's failure to protect their children, then he would have been better off not coming at all. Neither Fir nor Ruby need sympathy because it does them no good now. Ruby is _dead_, and no apology — genuine or not — is going to right that wrong. "To bring flowers to a dead girl who will never see or smell them? 'Cause they sure as hell aren't going to do me any good; I work in the fields all day to feed myself. I don't have time to cry over a sympathy wreath."

"I understand the frustration you're feeling," Gunnar says, and it's the worst thing he could have possibly said.

Fir is younger and shorter than him, but he picks Gunnar up by the lapels of his blazer with incredible strength. "You can't _possibly_ understand what I'm feeling. I don't care if Ruby was 'like' your child because you're a councilman or whatever. Ruby actually was my sister, and I watched her die on public television like it was some sick reality show. You don't get what I'm feeling, so stop saying that you do." When Gunnar coughs a barely audible "sorry," Fir drops him back into his seat. "Is this how all of you up there in the former Capitol are making yourselves feel better?" he asks, looking down at Gunnar condescendingly. "Justifying leaving the kids to kill each other and die by saying 'you understand'?"

Gunnar can see the rage behind the young man's eyes; it's an emotion no one should ever experience, let alone a boy of nineteen. Behind all that rage and pent up anger, though, he thinks he can make out something stronger: resolve. "You're right," he admits. "You're right. I'll never be able to experience what you're experience; not fully anyway. But I'm here to figure out a solution to this problem. I understand that Ruby is—" When Fir physically winces at the use of his sister's name, Gunnar pauses and corrects himself. "Nothing will be able to bring her back."

"I know," Fir spits.

"But it doesn't have to end here."

Fir is still distrustful (he doesn't believe that this councilman in his neat tux and gelled-back hair is capable of much), but he's dropped his guard slightly. He regards Gunnar with a weary eye, but motions for him to continue. "Yeah?"

Gunnar tries to smile, though it's not particularly happy. "Yeah. I've got a plan."

* * *

><p>Jorden's mother hasn't left her room in days. His father has stopped going to work and spends all of his time in the house, sitting on the couch, watching the Games without actually registering what he's seeing. Justine is still young, but old enough to know what's become of her older brother; she usually sits with her father, watching his face and the way it never changes anymore. His girlfriend is always in a church or attending mass, praying for the boyfriend who will never come home. His friends mourn his death, both at home and at school, and the memorial services are still going on in his name. Jorden was well-liked in life and death, for few people can legitimately claim to have hated him. He's gone now, and while the world continues to move without him, many have been buried deep in reality. The death of one person strikes the hearts of many, and for them, life has been change completely.<p>

Justine returns from school one day to discover her father passed out on the couch. The bags under his eyes are heavy, the stubble on his chin very pronounced, and his normally pristine clothes in a disarray. "Daddy?" she whispers, afraid of waking him up. She gives his arm a light touch, but when he doesn't respond at all, she runs to her room to grab a blanket to drape over his body. When she thinks he looks comfortable, she sits on the floor in front of the TV and pulls out what's left in her lunch box.

_"I just can't believe it's been a week, can you, Runyon?"_ Merope asks as she fans herself with a brightly manicured hand. _"And there have only been…"_ She counts off her fingers, like they're just numbers. _"… five deaths, I believe?"_

_ "Well, let's see,"_ her co-host begins, _"first there was Ruby Samim, then Jorden Biber, Keldon Peak, Kate Abner, Nyle Grimmsley… Yes, that's five! Going along the guidelines of the past Hunger Games, I'd have suspected we'd at least be halfway through the tributes!"_

_"We have to remember, though, that these Games are much different than the Games of the past," _she corrects him. _"There was no bloodbath during these Games, like many of us suspected. It's much more difficult to kill classmates you've known your entire life. They all must be rather startled, as well, to be dropped in a familiar territory that has been rendered, well, unfamiliar."_ They share a laugh. _"To have the battlefield be their home in the former Capitol… It's cruel!"_

_"Cruel, but entertaining,"_ Runyon chuckles. _"I think they'll be kicking it into gear soon, though."_

Her eyes widen, really showing off the cat eye contacts she put in for today. _"You think so?"_

_ "Definitely! As you said, we're at the end of the first week. They've only got three more weeks, Merope,"_ he says as-a-matter-of-factly, and she nods wisely in agreement. _"The survivor in them will be kicking in soon, if it hasn't already. Like I said earlier, I'm surprised that so few of them are gone at this point in the Games."_

_ "They're really sticking to their alliances, which I think is a huge factor. Most of these allies are friends, so I doubt they'll backstab each other."_

_ "For now."_

She laughs and swats his shoulder. _"You Negative Nelly! Well, enough of this; I'm sure you folks wanna get back to the nitty gritty, hmmm?" _She winks at the camera. _"Let's change to an arena camera."_ With a snap of her fingers, the scene shifts from a newsroom to the inside of a decrepit building. _"Mmmm, now what could this be? This certainly doesn't seem like the kind of place I would be hiding."_

_ "Really, Merope, I can't imagine you anywhere in this city. It's much to bland for your tastes."_

She giggles shrilly. _"Please, Runyon, you're too much. Ooo, ooo, shhhh!"_

A ragged body crawls out from underneath some rubble, dragging itself on its hands and knees. They're breathing heavily, with long red hair hanging in their face, matted with blood and dirt. They prop themselves up against the staircase and use one hand to wipe the hair away from their eyes; their other arm hangs limply by their side. _"That's Rain, isn't it?"_ Merope whispers. _"For those of you who might have missed it or who have forgotten, Rain had a close encounter with Cole and Allegra the other day. She was wounded by one of Allegra's arrows and was lucky to get away alive_—"

_"Because Nyle certainly wasn't."_

_ "Oh yes, that's such a shame. He was Rain's only ally, I believe. She's fairing well considering her condition."_

_ "How much longer will she be able to last, though?"_

A door opens and footsteps sound from down the hallway, until Jorden's mother is standing in the living room. She looks worse for wear: blotchy eyes, tangled hair, sickly complexion. As soon as she sees Justine, however, and as soon as she realizes what she's watching, some color returns to her face. She storms over to the television set and turns it off before standing in front of it and a shocked Justine. "What are you watching!?" she screams, voice cracking because it hasn't been used in days. "Who let you watch that!? Do you even know what this _is_!?"

While Justine gapes and tries not to cry from her mother's outburst, her father stirs from his sleep. "What's going on?" he grumbles, his eyes and consciousness still bogged down by tiredness. "Marie?" He's surprised to see his wife out of bed, let alone the master bedroom. "Justine…?"

"Why are you letting her watch this?" she screams at him.

"I didn't even know that she—"

"Why are _you_ still watching this!? You know what this is! You know what it's done!" He stands up quickly to grab his wife by the wrists, but she's thrashing and screaming and sobbing. Justine looks on with tears in her eyes, silently asking her father for help, but he's too busy trying to control Marie. "They made me watch it! They made all of us watch it, like… like it was just one of those stupid reality TV shows everyone watches. But this isn't reality TV, Iwan! Because— Because Jorden—" At the mere mention of his name, the two pause. Saying his name out loud, what they've been refusing to do, makes it real. It makes this fact, which has seemed like nothing more than a terrible nightmare that will go away when they watch TV or sleep, a solid truth. The truth that Jorden is dead, and he'll never come back.

They look into each other's eyes, they realize the truth of the matter, and everything goes spinning into action once more. Marie unleashes a terrible, shattering scream of anguish as she falls to her knees weeping. Iwan crouches over her, still holding tightly onto her wrists, and though his legs are still keeping him up his knees threaten to buckle. The weight of the world crushes them.

* * *

><p>Loss is nothing new to the Peak family. They've lost a child once before (a son, young, ready to take on the world and all else that got in his way), so they know how it feels to let go of someone you love. It shouldn't hurt this much, then, losing another.<p>

There had been three of them: Asher, Keldon, and Caylah. Keldon was still young when Asher passed away, and Caylah hadn't even been born yet. "Never again," their parents had said after they lost Asher, but Keldon wanted to go off to school and find something bigger than District 7. He hated being alone, hated the static life of his home District; he wanted to make something out of himself. So they let him go because they wanted him to be happy, because he was smart and careful, because they had already lost Asher, so surely God wouldn't be so cruel as to take away another child.

Now it's just Caylah.

They'd been given work off because of the circumstances, but Foster and Susan go in anyway. The longer they sit around, the more time they have to think, and in thinking they begin to drown. They busy themselves to ignore the sorrow and the mourning and pain, and their friends no longer try to offer their sympathies or condolences. Life goes on as they go through the motions as though nothing has happened.

After work, when Caylah is fast asleep and tucked into bed, Foster and Susan have their nightly cup of coffee in silence. They don't say anything, don't read the newspapers, don't turn on the TV or radio; they just sit there, and so does their coffee. They go to bed like mechanical dolls, close their eyes without ever sleeping, and rise in the morning to get Caylah ready for school and then head to work. It goes on.

Caylah's really popular at school now. People used to ignore her, used to act like she was invisible, but now everyone sees her. They give her gifts and cards and cakes that their moms baked for her and her family. People always pick her first during PE now, girls always ask her if she wants to play during recess, and the teacher tells her she doesn't need to ask to leave the classroom anymore. Caylah used to wish that people would pay attention to her and that boys would like her and that the popular girls would ask her to play with them, but now she's not so sure if she likes it. She knows why she's not invisible anymore: it's because her brother's dead. She decides she doesn't want to be popular anymore; she wishes she could be invisible again so that people would stop staring at her while she cries.

They try to have dinner as normal family. Tonight it's a baked potato with bacon bits, cheese, and sour cream, plus turkey and peas. Just after saying grace, Caylah starts crying because she hates peas and Keldon always used to eat them for her when their parents weren't looking. She cries and cries, and they no longer try to eat like a normal family because they just _can't_ anymore. Susan and Foster hold their only remaining child, whispering, "Never again, never again."

But neither Susan nor Foster pray to God or ask him for help anymore, because they live in a God forsaken world. They mourn because it took losing two children for them to realize this.

* * *

><p>Chaos breaks out in District 8. Both of the students from their District are dead, and the people up in the former Capital refuse to give them any answers. Schools have been shut down, the factories are being picketed, and businesses have been broken into. Everyone is screaming and demanding justice — adults, children, teenagers. They're writing letters and sending threatening phone calls. They're screaming at President Mala on live television, calling her "insufferable" and "cruel" on the radio.<p>

Everyone is in an uproar, but it's silly, May thinks, because none of these protesters knew Nyle or Kate. She doubts that they can even remember what either of them looked like or sounded like. They're fighting just to have someone and something to fight for, which means that there's no way they can win. These people are driven by temporary, fleeting passion, and that's sure to die down with time. She, however, has the passion of a mother who's lost her son, and that will stay with her for the rest of her life.

May has tried to contact Kate Abner's family, but neither parent has returned her calls. She asks her daughter Lisha about it, because she goes to school with Nyle's younger sister, and Lisha tells her that she doesn't know much, but apparently the Abner parents have taken a back seat in the lives of their children. Unsure of what this really means, she goes to their house the next day, bringing a bouquet of flowers (she's not sure why; all the beautiful flowers people have given her out of sympathy don't make _her_ feel any better). When she knocks, it's Avery who answers the door.

"Hello," May says, smiling kindly. "Are you Avery?"

The blonde nods slowly as her eyes travel to the daisies and sunflowers. Kate was allergic to daisies, she thinks. "Yes. Are you here to see Mom and Dad? 'Cause Dad's out and Mom doesn't wanna see anyone."

May frowns, though she realizes that people cope in many different ways. "I see…"

"Oh, you're Lisha's mom, huh?"

"Yes."

"She said you might come over. Do you wanna come inside? I'm making hot chocolate." Lisha steps to the side so that May can walk in. The house is very clean and orderly, save for a small portion of the living room that May figures Avery has occupied: numerous blankets lay piled on top of the couch, and the coffee table is covered in various snack bags and empty cups. "Do you want any?" Lisha asks as she moves the blankets so that May can sit.

"Sure, hon."

There's a small skip in her step as she heads into the kitchen. May takes this moment of solitude to observe her surroundings, but she notices that there's not much else to look at or captivate her attention. The walls and floor are white, there are no family photos to look at, no flowers to decorate, no colors to warm the rooms. She imagines that the rest of the house is very much like the living room: cold.

Her eyes turn to Lisha when she returns to the living room with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in her hands. "Thank you, dear," May says as she takes the red mug.

"Mhm." Avery plops down in the small cocoon on her side of the couch, trying to get comfortable again.

They sit in silence. May sees that there's a TV in the room, right across from the couch, actually, but it's off. She glances Avery, who calmly sips her hot chocolate as she settles into her blankets, and wonders how long she's been sitting in this prolonged quiet. "I don't really like watching TV anymore," Avery says, speaking up when she notices May's inquisitive glances. "I was the only one who saw it, you know. Mom was in her room and Dad was gone… I don't think they'd know if everyone wasn't talking about it. They don't talk about it. Dad didn't say anything. I think I saw Mom crying once, but she does that a lot, so I don't think it's because of what happened."

For a moment, May is overwhelmed. Avery is in Lisha's grade, so she can't be any older than thirteen. This girl is only thirteen-years-old and she's had to deal with the death of her older sister all on her own. May is stunned, and perhaps a bit disgusted.

"I was mean to her sometimes," Avery continues. "Kate wasn't really good at making friends. I think I was her only friend. It used to make me angry because she'd make me hang out with her, but I wanted to make my own friends. I thought it was weird, that she was fifteen and she didn't even have any friends or guys that she liked. And it used to be kind of embarrassing, and sometimes I wished I had a cooler sister." May hadn't known Kate very well, so she just listens as Avery's voice gradually cracks. "I used to yell at her in front of my friends sometimes and I'd embarrass her. I used to tell her she was boring a lot. I think I made her cry a lot." She starts to hiccup. "I was really mean."

May puts down her cup and she moves closer to Avery, whose shoulders are now shaking. "She still loved you, hon," May says as she strokes a lock of Avery's hair out of her tear-stained face. "We all hurt the ones we love, but they continue to love us anyway. And I'm sure you loved her, even if you said all those things to her. Family will do that a lot, but the beautiful thing about family is that you stick together."

"So then where is my Mom and Dad?" Avery wails desperately as she clings to May's shirt. "They don't care about me or Kate!" As soon as she says her older sister's name, she chokes and sobs.

All May can do is hold Avery, whose world is falling down all around her. She doesn't tell Avery that everything is going to be okay or that it'll get better, because she doesn't know that and she's not going to give a girl who's suffering false hope. She doesn't say "I'm sorry" or offer to help, because she doesn't know if she _can_ help. All she can do it just be there and let her know that she's still alive, that everything is still real, and that this is not a dream. It's no comfort, but it's truth, and May has always believed that truth will set you free.

* * *

><p>President Mala knows that all of Unified Panem is growing restless. She knows that people are seeking answers and, above all, resolutions. She doesn't respond to threats or demands, though, because she is president and she has to show that she's the one in power. She doesn't mean to abuse her power or keep the people blind; she just knows that she has to think with her head and not her passions. She wants to save these kids, honestly she does, but she has to do this strategically, or else they'll lose more than just a classroom full of children. The world of politics isn't all black and white, but she knows she won't be able to convince the general public this. To them, it either this or that, no in between.<p>

She sighs after hanging up on another angry caller. Her bodyguards glance at her in concern, but she waves them off and sits up straighter in her seat. "Their passion and anger is understandable, even if it is misplaced. They allow themselves to be driven by their emotions." Politics is so much more than emotion and passion; it's about strategy and practicality. She can't swoop in like a savior and bring all those children back, like everyone wants her to do. Not even Katniss Everdeen led a completely successful campaign against the Capitol.

The blip on her phone starts going off again, and she has half the heart to just ignore it. "Yes?" she asks after pressing the button.

_"You have a visitor, President Mala,"_ says the feminine voice of her secretary.

"Who is it?"

"Councilman Mellark."

Her bodyguards shift (she knows they're still feeling guilty for the last time they ganged up on the councilman), and she very nearly dismisses the man before he can get the chance to see her. All the voicemails and letters and calls have taken their toll on her, though, so she acquiesces with a quiet grunt. "Send him up."

She isn't even looking at him when he enters. "President Mala," he greets, as cordially as he can. When she glances up, she can make out a hint of his black eye. "I'm surprised you weren't too busy to see me today."

"Yes, you're very lucky. Why are you here?"

"You know why I'm here."

"And I have the same answer for you," she says. "I can take no immediate action without putting the lives of my people in danger. I've contemplating sending in a rescue team, Councilman Mellark, honestly I have, but what if they're to fail, hm? What do I say to _their_ families? And what if the Capitol fight back? We've no idea the kind of weapons they have at their disposal. I won't punish my citizens because of sloppy planning."

"So then you are planning something," he says. When she hesitates to answer, he scowls. "I get what you're saying, but you're just sitting there making up excuses. You're not even trying to find a solution to the problem, and while you're sitting there, kids are dying. Five of them have already died, and all their families get are sympathy letters printed with the same words. I've gone to see the ones who are actually suffering—"

"How dare you?"

He scoffs. "How dare I give a shit?"

She narrows her eyes dangerously at him. "Watch yourself, Councilman."

As much as he wants to call her out, Gunnar knows he can't afford to get himself kicked out of her office again. He's running out of time. "You're sitting here, talking about how you care about these kids and your citizens, and that's great. It's nice to know that our president cares about us. But as you're talking and thinking and planning, twenty-seven kids are scared out of their minds. It's been a week, and any hope they might have had about you coming to save them is diminishing if it's not already gone. We have to be active if—"

"Are you telling me how to do my job?" she asks, her tone betraying irritation.

"I'm telling you that kids are dying!" he says, exasperated. He runs his fingers through his blond hair as he begins pacing back and forth in her office. When he finally manages to calm down, he stands in front of her desk and does his best to keep eye contact with her. "I don't doubt that you actually care about these kids, but the way you're dealing with this situation isn't just going to hurt them. Have you even heard about what's going on District 8?"

Of course she does, she wants to snap. She's president of Unified Panem — she knows that her citizens are rebelling and protesting and fighting. She knows that they're angry with her, and she knows that anarchy is breaking out. She looks cool and calm and collected, but she's struggling to stay strong for the nation that is beginning to break.

"We're not just dealing with politics," Gunnar says softly, "and repercussions. We're dealing with people."

President Mala looks like she's actually contemplating his words, and for a short moment he feels a sense of triumph. Fear and disgust settle in the pit of his stomach when she eventually shakes his head, which has become a sign to dismiss him. "We're done, Councilman Mellark," she says with finality. "Leave."

He looks to her bodyguards, who have tensed, before directing his heavy glare to the woman in the chair. "Fine." His acquiescence has shocked all of them into silence. He leaves with no smart remark, just a nod of his head. As he departs from the Justice Building, with the little hope he had completely gone, he thinks of the families of the deceased. He thinks of the tears and the screaming and the brokenness, and he thinks of how much more he'll have to see if this continues. He thinks of the mutilated bodies of twelve-year-olds and fifteen-year-olds, of starry-eyed school children. He thinks, and he plans.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Down in the Valley" - The Head and the Heart<p>

_Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways..._

* * *

><p>The next chapter will get back into the actual Games, but I really needed this one to show a glimpse of home life and Unified Panem's response. I can't really promise when the next update will be. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo this year, which means it's unlikely I'll update this in November, and I've got finals in December. I hope to write a little throughout November, but it's likely the next one won't be out until mid-December. I feel like an ass because I made you guys wait like a month and a half for this one, and it's not even with most of your characters ha ha. I promise I'll try to make it up to you, though, and your support just means the world to me. Hopefully, I'll hear from you all soon!<p>

Also, I can't believe this story is at 100,000 words! That's incredible! :D

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	17. environmental decay

Author's Note:

I feel so terrible for making you all wait almost two months for this update. I keep writing new stories and try to stay on top of other ones, but then I end up neglecting some in the process. XD I appreciate your support so so much, though, and your reviews and comments and favorites really make my day. Thank you for sticking by me!

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Fifteen  
>Environmental Decay<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "I Want It AllWe Will Rock You Mash-Up (feat. Armageddon aka Geddy)" - Queen

* * *

><p>Oralee chokes back a sob as she holds onto Oliver's hand for dear life. Her other arm lays limp by her side, bleeding and bruising, completely useless to her now. Her body screams at her, but she can't let go. "We'll be okay," she says, more for Oliver's benefit than her own. "We'll be okay, hon, I promise. I promise." She clenches her eyes shut and grits her teeth, as though squeezing will help her get through this, because she can feel herself slipping. She keeps replaying the events that led up to this, keeps asking herself what she could have done to avoid this, keeps cursing herself and the Capitol for what they've done. <em>We're just kids. We're just kids,<em> repeats in her mind.

She cranes her neck to look at Oliver, to make sure that he's actually still there and the hand clasped in her own isn't an illusion. Tears continue to course down his cheeks, though half his face is red with blood and one of his eyes has swollen shut. He swings up his other hand so that he's using both to hold onto Oralee's one, drawing a sharp cry of pain from her. He's too scared to let go though, too terrified of the plummet to even think about her deteriorating strength.

They had just wanted to find Joel, so they split up into groups to cover more ground. A simple scouting trip went terribly wrong, and now Oralee is hanging over a hole in the seventh story floor of a building and Oliver is hanging onto life by his fingertips. The explosion went off as soon as they were in the center of the room, but Oralee managed to jump back enough to stay on solid ground and catch Oliver before he could fall. But what's left is starting to crumble underneath the weight and it's only a matter of time until it completely gives out. Even then, Oralee isn't sure how much longer she can stay like this. She doesn't have the power to pull him up and neither does he, but they don't have the luxury of dangling there forever.

"We'll be okay," she says again. "Someone will come. They'll come and help us."

Oliver nods because it's the only thing he can do. The words are caught in his throat, which burns and aches from the smoke. His one good eye continues to water, both from the fumes and the tears that refuse to stop. The pain is too much, and the chances of him getting out of this— Oliver is young, but he's smart. He knows what death is and he knows that he's closer to it than he ever has been before. He knows that the situation they're in doesn't look good at all, that no one will come to help. They're on their own, as they have been since this whole ordeal began. All Oliver feels is loneliness, desperation, and hopelessness, for himself, for Oralee, for his mother back home.

His mother. He's the only one she has left in this world; they're all each other has. If he dies, she'll be alone.

He looks up at Oralee. She buries her face in the ground and clenches her fingers around his, and he can feel her shaking. She's only a year older than him, but she took all of the younger students under her wing like a mother. She held them close and comforted them, loved them and reassured them. She has a large family back home waiting for her, but if she dies, at least they'll have each other.

Oliver shakes his head. That's a horrible way of thinking. If any family loses their child they'll be devastated, regardless of whether or not they have others. She doesn't deserve to die any less than he does— no child deserves to die. Not like this. Not in a burning building, thousands of miles away from the people they love the most. And Oralee has done the best at giving them that love they've been deprived of since being kidnapped. It may be genuine or it may just be a simulation, but even her simulation has given all of them hope.

"I won't let you go, Oliver." Her voice cracks. He hears her sniff and hiccup. "I promise, we'll both get through this."

But hope doesn't always answer the questions of the rationally minded like Oliver. He wants to believe that they'll get through this, that someone will heroically come to their rescue, that all of this is just a nightmare and he'll wake up. He wants to believe that Ruby isn't actually dead, that everyone else is okay, that the Capitol isn't real. Hope could give him all of these things, but he knows for a fact they're not reality. He has no use for hope.

He feels like he's been dangling forever. All of his limbs are aching and his chest is heaving, and though he's holding on as tight as he can he knows that he's slipping. "Oralee," he tries to say. It comes out as a muffled grunt, and she can't hear. "Oralee… Oralee!"

She raises her head when he calls her the third time. When he looks into her eyes, he doesn't see the hope and love that's grown so used to seeing. The despair doesn't suit her, he thinks. "We're not gonna make it, are we?"

Oralee's lower lip trembles, but she still shakes her head. Even if her body betrays her, and even if deep down she knows the truth, she will never admit it. "No, we'll be fine. We'll be okay." She gasps, both in pain and surprise, when he drops his other hand. "Please, please don't let go, Oliver. We'll make it through this."

"No, we…"

"_Please_, Oliver."

Her grip is still strong, but the sweat of their hands is making it more difficult to hang on. Their gazes remain connected, and in that moment Oliver knows only one truth: that he is going to die today. Oralee has recognized this as well, because now she's crying and sobbing and begging him to stay with her. "I'm sorry," he gasps. She screams at him to stop saying that because everything is going to be alright and everything is going to be okay and they're going to survive. But even if they survive this ordeal, who's to say they won't die tomorrow or the day after? Maybe later today? Even if they survive, they won't make it home.

He's literally clutching her fingertips now. She's begging him to stay with her and to hold on, but it's fruitless. Blood clouds his vision, smoke suffocates him, the strain makes his entire body ache. Is enduring this even worth it?

Oliver looks up at Oralee and imagines it's his mother's smiling face before he drops.

* * *

><p>Terra is drowning and she knows it.<p>

She hears Riley and Mattheo calling for her, but she never replies. Part of her knows that it would be safer to travel in a group, but the other part is reminding her how dangerous it is to depends on others. It doesn't matter that they were friends back home because everything will lead to the same end — one winner. Sticking together and trying to rebel against the Capitol seems like such a grand and glorious idea, but that's all it is: an idea. If she wants to survive, Terra knows that she can't depend on an idea. If she wants to win and actually get back home, she has to rely on her own strength and resolution. But even that is becoming weak.

Every time she closes her eyes, she sees that one moment in exact detail: Ruby jumping in front of Hawk, the blade cutting through her jacket and t-shirt, the way it pierces easily through her tiny body. Terra can still feel her shaking hands around the hilt of the sword and it makes her nauseous. Her skin is clean, has been rubbed raw and red even, but the blood is still there. She knows that she'll never be able to wash away the blood of a twelve-year-old.

She's run into some of her classmates. She reads the look in their eyes when they first see her and identifies it each time because it's always the exact same. It's fear at first, closely followed by anger. They think she'll attack them or kill them like she did Ruby; they don't realize that she doesn't even have a weapon on her. Terra doesn't blame them, though. Being paranoid in this situation is better than assuming the best, especially from someone they don't trust.

People are looking for her and she stumbles across a familiar face every now and then, but ultimately she's alone. She reasons with herself that it's better this way because in the end everyone will be on their own, but the loneliness is starting to get to her. She hears voices and screaming when she knows no one is around. She sees phantoms dancing in the corners of her vision. She smells burning flesh and decomposing bodies. Sometimes even the ground beneath her fingers and feet feel like it's crumbling away, even though she's standing upright. During the day, Terra aims merely to stay alive. At night, she does the same, and she forfeits sleep in the process.

She's not sure how much longer she can last.

Terra's stomach rumbles loudly, reminding her of her last full meal, which had been the night before they'd been put into the arena. How long has it been? A week? Two weeks? She hasn't kept count. All she knows is that she needs to eat soon, otherwise she'll collapse.

In her search for food, she wanders into the first building she sees. It looks like a building back home, the one that's a bit scratched up on the outside and completely decrepit on the inside. It's a popular spot for the truants in the city who just like to drink and sit around with friends. The teachers and administrators would always warn the students against coming to this place, but of course many would peek in for a sense of adventure or some kind of dare. Terra, who'd never been brave enough to do it, expects to see teens with bloodshot eyes and cigarettes in hand. It's what she'd rather see, than the heaving body on the ground in front of her.

Terra recognizes the bright red hair immediately and stays back because of it. She doesn't particularly see Rain as a threat, but she also knows that the girl is no pushover. More than just her skills or personality, though, it's the blood and the sheer amount of it.

Rain is still alive, but it's only because of pure adrenaline. The arrow still hasn't been removed from her back because she can't muster the strength or energy to do it. Every time she touches it, pain sears through her shoulder and down through her limbs, momentarily stunning her. She knows she needs to pull it out and tend to it, especially since it might be infected, but it hurts too much. Rain has always been a loner, but now more than ever she wishes that someone was here to help. She can't do this on her own.

Terra has made plenty of noise entering the building, but Rain still hasn't noticed her; she's too wrapped up in her pain. Out of the corner of her eye, Terra spots a dagger that had been carelessly dropped on the ground. It would be so easy, she thinks, just to kill Rain. And it would be one less person standing in her way.

She walks over and picks up the weapon, notices that it hasn't been used once. The blade is still shiny and sharp. She glances at Rain who's struggling to breathe and just keep herself alive. _It could be so easy._

"Please…"

Rain looks right at her, but not with the fear or anger or thirst for justice that she's so used to seeing. More than anything she's desperate, but there's also a sense of dependance that Terra would never have expected to see.

The redhead's vision is fading in and out, but she knows it's Terra who's standing so near her. Right now she doesn't care about Ruby or whatever else Terra has done because she's dying and hurting, and she needs help. Rain holds herself to be a strong woman, both emotionally and physically, but she has never been pushed to these lengths before. She's never literally been shot in the back, she's never been seriously injured like this, she's never had to watch someone die in front of her. She has been pushed past normal limits, and her psyche and her body are crying out. Right now it's doesn't matter that Rain Clomb is strong-willed and hard-headed because all of that has been shattered.

"I… Help, please." Her voice is coarse and ragged, and her plea comes out as a croak. Rain can't even recognize her own words.

Terra's heart pounds in her ears. Her fingers tighten around the hilt of the dagger. Her jaw clenches. _It will be so easy._

* * *

><p>It seems like such a silly and trivial thing to think about, now of all times, but Altair decides that he does regret not confessing to or asking out Moira Mallard. He keeps recalling the night before the Games began, on the roof, when he was talking with Hawk and Luke. <em>"No regrets,"<em> was the consensus they had come to. It seemed like the right thing to say at the time, but it sounds wrong when he replays it in his head now. Maybe it was because they hadn't given much thought to everything that happened in their lives at that moment, but in the solitude he's had in the Games, Altair has been given ample time to list every regret he's ever had.

He regrets not studying for that history final when he was twelve, which resulted in a B- for the class and his lowest grade to date.

He regrets not running for Student Council president, when people told them they supported him and would vote for him.

He regrets not sticking up for that little girl when he was in kindergarten because he was afraid he'd be unpopular.

He regrets not taking better care of Marigold, even though the doctors say she would have died regardless.

He regrets not yelling at his father for neglecting his family after Marigold.

He regrets his choices to sit back and watch rather than participate.

He regrets his passivity.

Altair knows that none of this is actually his fault, but something self-deprecating within him mocks and accuses and blames. Maybe if he fought more, stood up more, spoke out more — his mind clouds with what if's and maybe's and alternate universes. It's pointless, but the doubt festers and grows.

Skyloh lightly pats him on the shoulder, reminding him of where he is. "We should go," she says. "It's getting kind of late and hot… Maybe we should find some place to sit or hide out until the sun goes down." She turns her attention to Joel, who's swaying on his feet slightly. Their attempts to find Oralee or Thistle have proven to be fruitless, though they've been searching for a couple days. Altair is ashamed to admit, even inwardly, that he's more concerned about finding Hawk and Luke. "And the others might be coming out to find food."

"Speaking of food," Altair says as he ushers them into the nearest building, "how much more do we have?"

She hums as she sorts through her backpack. "Enough," she says. She doesn't sound very convincing. "We might wanna stop by the Cornucopia and see if there's anything left, though… Just in case, you know?"

He nods. "Right."

They sit in the corner of the room, so that they can see out of the building but are also hidden in the shadows. Skyloh grabs a granola bar for each of them, but that's all they really have for lunch; Altair can tell that their supply is dwindling. They eat and sit in silence, though every now and then Skyloh will ask Joel a question. It's to calm his nerves and reassure him, and hearing them talk gives Altair a sense of ease as well. When she asks him something about Drizzle, he opens his mouth to answer, but suddenly stops.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I hear someone," he says, his voice low. Altair quickly zips up his bag and pulls it on his back, just in case they have to run, while the other two remain stark still. All three of them keep their eyes on the window.

"I'm starving." Altair's eyes widen when he recognizes the voice. "Do you think there's anything left at the Cornucopia?"

"Nah, I doubt it," his companion says. "It's probably been picked at so much we wouldn't be able to find anything." The familiar voices of Hawk and Luke restore a sense of joy in Altair, Skyloh grasps him firmly by the wrist before he can jump up and join them. He gives her a sharp look, more out of desperation that legitimate anger, but she keeps a firm hand on him to keep him in place. Before he can ask her what's wrong, more voices join the other two.

"Ah, it's you guys," says Mattheo.

Lewis, Lorea, Mattheo, and Riley stand across from Hawk and Luke, who immediately take on a defensive stance. The former group look worse for wear, though the other two don't appear to be at the top of their game either. Lewis steps forward, choosing to play the mediator as usual. "We're just looking for some food," he explains. Should it come down to it, the four could still find a way to overpower them — even if Hawk and Luke had received the higher scores. Nonetheless, Lewis doesn't want to take any chances, and most of him is afraid of what Hawk could do if pushed.

"Oh, what a coincidence! Us too!" Hawk chirps mockingly. Lewis shrinks back, sensing Hawk's animosity. "We're just out on our daily noon stroll, searching for food and perhaps a nice place to picnic… Have you guys seen any nice spots?"

Luke nudges the brunet with his elbow, giving him a disapproving look. "C'mon, man…"

Hawk shrugs him off. "What? Pretending to be all buddy-buddy with people isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Are you gonna attack us, then?" Riley asks boldly. Her hand tightens around one of the throwing knives in her pouch to stop it from shaking.

Hawk's gaze is hard and calculating. "You never took me for the fighting type, Riley," he says. There's nothing particularly mocking or cruel behind his words; they're plainly stated in a hollow tone. "Though, I guess if push comes to shove…" His fingers graze over the handle of the axe hanging at his hip, but he makes no move to actually take it. He notices all of them flinching. "… We're all likely to do things we'd never expected before."

They've been in this thing for a little over a week now, but these confrontations are still tense and awkward. No one knows what to do, how to act, or what to say. They know what they should do, but fear strikes before any decision can be carried through. In most cases, nothing is said at all and the different parties go their separate ways. This is gradually becoming a game of keep away.

"I wouldn't bother going to the Cornucopia," Lewis says. "All the food's gone."

Luke groans. "Typical." He flashes the other group a grin. "Thanks for the head's up." Hawk groans as he rolls his eyes, but Luke just holds up his hands in defense. "What? I'm just being polite!"

Before Hawk can even begin to explain, a loud crack above them sounds. The first thing he does is grab Luke and duck under the roof of the nearest building; this quick reflex is enough to barely save them from the bolt of electricity that strikes the ground they were standing on. Hawk doesn't stop, not even when he hears a terrible scream of pain, and thrusts open the door to the house to jump in. He shuts it behind him, tells Luke to get down, and cowers, trying to tune out the thunder and wailing outside. He's so focused on shutting everything out that he doesn't notice Altair, Skyloh, and Joel in the corner crouching like him.

The bolts of lightning don't stop for another half hour. They strike the house several times, with enough strength to shake the foundation but not enough to actually wound those within. However, Hawk can still feel himself trembling when the storm is over.

"_Mattheo!_" Riley's shout has him frozen to the core. "Mattheo!" Her voice cracks with a sob and a scream. "No, no, _no_!"

Hawk doesn't realize he has his hands clamped over his ears until Luke takes him by the shoulders and shakes him. "Hawk, Hawk!" he says, drawing him out of his shell. "Dude, are you okay?"

_Of course I'm not okay,_ is the obvious answer. These people have got them totally playing in the palm of their hands and there's nothing they can do about it. It's one thing to control them with collars and throw weapons at them, but altering the weather too?

The entirety of the situation doesn't sink in completely until Altair is sitting at his side. "Altair! You're—"

"Alive, yeah," the auburn-haired male says, grinning joylessly. "I was hoping the reunion would have been a lot less…" He pauses, searches for the right word but can't quite find it. In the end, he just shakes his head. "… Well, anyway, I'm glad you guys are alright. Talk about quick thinking, Hawk."

"Yeah, great job, man!" Luke says, patting him on the back heartily. "We'd both be gone if it weren't for you!" He says it so airily and so naturally that it's out of place, even if the words are true. Luke's bright eyes shift from Hawk to Altair, then to Skyloh and Joel who are still huddled in the corner. "Woah, Altair, it just hit me that you're actually here. And with Skyloh too! Dude, we've been looking for you for like a week. Where've you been?"

Altair grins slightly. "Everywhere, I guess. We've been looking for you too." He rubs the back of his neck and sighs as he falls back on his heels. "It's been crazy, huh?" It's too simple a word to explain everything that's happened to all of them, but they all agree anyway. "Crazy…" His attention is momentarily taken away by Riley's erratic bawling and Lewis's quiet attempts to soothe her. They've lost another classmate but, as heartless as it may sound, he doesn't want to think about it right now. He's just found his friends and every worry over the past seven days about them being dead is gone. "Going in after you guys was more of a con than a pro."

"No kidding," says Luke. "At first we thought they'd killed you off first, before it all started. Why did you get left behind?"

"They said it was an advantage, that people in the Capitol voted for or something," Altair says, trying to explain something he doesn't quite understand himself. "Me and Skyloh."

As if just remembering their existence, Hawk and Luke turn to the other two who have been silent during their entire reunion. "Hey guys," Hawk greets, raising a hand to wave. Joel shrinks back a little bit, though he nods in acknowledgement, though Skyloh flashes a full-toothed grin. He winces as he sits up, feeling the bruises from having thrown himself and Luke onto the ground. "I thought you were with Oralee and the other kids, Joel."

"I got lost," the dark-haired boy answers timidly.

"Good thing you ran into Skyloh then, huh?" Without waiting for an answer, Hawk gets to his feet and dusts off his knees. "Well… What now?" Do they keep traveling in a group now that they've found each other? Do they split up— Altair with his friends and Skyloh with Joel? Do they try to find a way to get out of this, or do they just go with the game?

Skyloh swallows thickly as she glances at everyone and waits for the verdict. She went into these Games thinking that she would be on her own, but now that she's had the company she knows that she isn't ready to depart with it. She ultimately settles her gaze on Altair, who's looking directly at her. "We should just keep going," he says. Instantly she feels the weight of fear lift off her chest, and reminds herself to thank him later. "This area could still be dangerous."

"Shouldn't we wait?" Joel suggests. "I mean, we're in the safest place we can be right now. If the storm…"

Luke visibly shudders. "He's got a point."

"So we're just gonna sit here?" Hawk asks, bearing a frown.

"I guess it would be reckless to just run out after what happened," Altair says, though he looks just as unhappy as his friend. He shifts in his seat so that he's sitting more comfortably, and the others follow in suit. "I guess this gives us time to catch up…?"

Hawk rolls his eyes as he punches Altair playfully in the arm. "Shut up, man." For a fleeting moment, they share an amused smile. Only Joel hesitates as he pulls his knees up against his chest; in the distance, he can still hear Riley's cries.

* * *

><p>Dahlia, Lana, and Zook are wading through the sewers when they first hear signs of the storm. They immediately jump out of the water and shed off their wet clothing, afraid of being more susceptible to the lightning, and huddle close together. Once the initial fear ebbs away, Zook realizes how distant the storm sounded and crept up the ladder to peak outside. Sure enough, he sees a mass of gray clouds and streaks of electricity concentrated in one area of the arena, far away from where they are.<p>

For now they're safe, but none of them feel relief.

"Damn," Zook mumbles as he shakes out his jacket. "They can control the freaking weather."

"I'd say it's not surprising because of everything they've done up 'til now, but it still scares the hell out of me," says Dahlia. She lays out her wet clothing on the ground and takes a seat, feeling tired from the scare. "They're like magicians."

"Or gods."

"Don't say that," Lana says, shooting him a scolding look. "They're not gods." He shrugs a bit uncomfortably, acknowledging that the joke wasn't timed well, though he doesn't apologize. Dahlia's eye brows raise in surprise at the dirty blonde's outburst. When she catches the expression, Lana sighs apologetically. "Sorry. I'm just stressed. I mean, shit. Look at what's happening to us. We're sitting in a sewer hiding out from bloodthirsty classmates."

Zook snickers. "And my humor's tasteless?"

"Shut up."

"But seriously," Dahlia says, "how long are we gonna be stuck down here?" Her eyes wander up and down the sewer, searching it thoroughly except where the darkness cuts off her line of vision. "This place is giving me the creeps. I keep having these visions where monsters come crawling out at us." Lana ogles at her, but Zook actually bursts out laughing. "What!? You've seen it all here, and you think monsters is too much?"

"You think they can genetically mutate things?" he asks.

"Uh, well, they can make their own storms and control the weather, so why not?" she retorts.

Lana unsuccessfully hides an amused smile behind her hand. "That's a pretty big leap, Dolly." With the idea planted into her mind though, she can't help but scan their surroundings as well. All she can hears is the rushing water, but that just heightens the weariness growing in her stomach. "Well… Okay, maybe we should get out of here. The storm's far away, right? We should be okay."

Dahlia agrees and quickly jumps to her feet so that she can gather her belongings. "Are you afraid of giant mutants, too?" Zook asks teasingly. His only answer is a light smack to the head.

They climb up the ladder and push away the cover so that they can resurface. "I hate going down there," Zook says as he helps pull up Lana, then Dahlia. "I get all claustropho…" He trails off, his eyes widen, and his jaw hangs open in shock.

"What's wrong?" Dahlia asks. He doesn't say anything, just points. One of the nearby buildings is on fire, with black smoke rising from the flames. Dahlia swallows thickly as she instinctively clings to Zook's sleeve. "Do you think anyone's in there?"

"Probably," Lana says. She shrinks back like she's standing right up against the fire, even though she's miles away. "Whenever something like this happens, it's because the Capitol has a specific reason…"

"Maybe we should see if anyone's alright," Zook suggests. All of them, even Zook, hesitates. For one, even if they do manage to help someone, the building could collapse on them or the Capitol could have something else up their sleeves. Second, if that's not the case and they all do get out alive, that would mean they saved the life of someone keeping them from getting home. Maybe, Zook thinks in the recess of his mind, it's better to just let nature take its course and not intervene.

Dahlia shakes her head slightly. "I don't think there's much we can do," she says, voicing what all of them are thinking.

"Should we just go, then?" Lana asks. It doesn't seem right, seeing something so tragic and not doing anything about it.

Zook shrugs. "What else can we do?"

As they other two head forward, Lana can't bring herself to tear her eyes away from the burning building. Dahlia calls out her name when they realize her lagging behind, and she stumbles forward to join them.

* * *

><p>Oralee is still alive. The aching of her body, the burning of her eyes, and the tight wheeze in her chest has her aware of this fact. Though her senses are numbed, and though her consciousness passes back and forth between light and darkness, she knows this is not death.<p>

She can barely make out the outline of a body pressed against hers. Their chest rises and falls in a shudder against her wounded arm, and their harsh breath fans across her cold face. Oralee tries to open her eyes to see who her companion is, but all she sees is a dark silhouette. She opens her mouth to try to say something, but she can't find her voice and it comes out as a strangled garble. They look down at her and shake their head. They speak, but she can't hear.

She still sees red and smells smoke. Is she still in the building? Is she still in the fire? What about Oliver…?

Tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. She shuts them and welcomes the darkness.

* * *

><p>When the leaves behind her crunch, Allegra spins around, her bow and arrow already prepared. Lila holds up her hands when she comes into the clearing, feigning a look of innocence. "Woah there. It's just me." Allegra gradually drops her weapon, though Lila sees that her grip around the bow remains tight. The trust in their alliance is wavering, however little they had to begin with. "Where's Cole?" she asks, turning her attention to the nearly empty living room they've taken quarters in.<p>

"He didn't say," Allegra says. "He left right after you did. He's probably just going on patrol or something."

Lila snorts. "On patrol? For what? I don't think he needs to worry about people trying to kill him; they're all terrified."

Allegra doesn't reply. Whenever she sees or thinks about Cole now, she thinks back to his fight with Nyle. She sees his quick punches and deadly movements, the lack of fear or reservation in his eyes, the way he so easily brings his foot down on his opponent's neck. She knew that Cole was strong, but seeing that with her own eyes— it's weakened her resolve to stay with this alliance rather than strengthened it.

Lila hadn't been there and neither Allegra nor Cole has really talked about what happened. She knows that Cole killed Nyle and Allegra managed to wound Rain, but other than that she's in the dark. What she does know that whatever happened rattled the younger girl pretty badly. They're not close in any sense of the word, but Lila can read people, and something in Allegra has changed since the start of the Games.

The redhead takes a seat on the ground, using her backpack as a cushion. "Guess who I ran into today?" she asks, breaking the silence with an attempt at conversation. "Mykal and Rea."

"Aren't they with Korra?" Allegra asks.

"I didn't see her." Lila pulls out of her blades and idly scratches at the ground with it. "Maybe they broke up. Korra's never struck me as a team player."

Allegra almost laughs because, to be totally honest, neither of them are much of team players either. The only thing she has in common with Lila is the fact that they both come from District 13, and that hardly seems like a strong foundation for an alliance. At least Korra and Rea roomed together before this, so they know each other fairly well. Allegra is just together with Lila and Cole because it seemed like the smart thing at the time, but now she can't even look at Cole without shuddering.

"I think they were looking for her," Lila continues. "They were talking about that fire. Maybe she was in there."

"Maybe." Allegra brushes her fingers through her hair, which feels dirty and tough. It's been a week, maybe more, since she's taken a proper shower. Back home, cleanliness and order is to be expected, so going seven days without bathing was absolutely unheard of. With some mild entertainment, she imagines how her aunt and uncle are reacting to her state of dress and physical appearance. Of course, that's if they're watching at all. "I guess we'll see later tonight."

She wonders what faces will show up tonight, if any at all. Time is ticking down slowly, but gradually. They're in the middle of their second week, and after that they're halfway done. Over twenty kids, two and a half weeks. The numbers reel in her head, and Allegra feels like she's going to be sick.

They don't say anything more after that. Allegra sits with her head pushed against her raised knees and Lila moves back and forth in the room, unable to keep herself preoccupied with one thing. Once night falls and darkness envelops the area, Lila rushes to the window. "The canons are gonna go off soon," she announces, then glances over her shoulder at Allegra. The addressed doesn't say anything in reply, just sits in the curled ball she's been in for over an hour. She doesn't have too much time to scrutinize the silent female because the first canon goes off. "Oliver," she says softly. Allegra physically freezes at the mention of the young boy's name. Then Oliver's face disappears from the night sky and a second canon goes off. "Mattheo."

That's it. Just two.

Just _two?_ Allegra asks herself. That's two too many, yet there are still twenty-five of them left. With each day that passes, with each tribute that falls, Allegra feels her resolve losing strength. This is the worst time to start questioning herself, but thoughts and ideas that she had never recognized before are surfacing. More than anything, for the first time, she realizes that she's afraid.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Down in the Valley" - The Head and the Heart<p>

_Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways..._

* * *

><p>The next review prize will be from reviews 250-265. That's not for a while, but I just thought I'd give you guys a head's up, ha ha.<p>

So I saw some authors asking questions to their readers and I thought it'd be kind of a fun thing to do! Your answers won't affect the story at all — they're just something fun that I thought would be interesting to see. Actually, the third one might result in a video I was thinking of making (just a small thing to picture the tributes), buuuut we'll see if that actually happens.

**1) Who's your favorite tribute(s)? (Aside from your own, of course haha.)**

**2) Who do you think has the highest chance of winning?**

**3) Who do you picture as your tribute/other tributes? (Actress/actor, model, singer, etc.)**

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	18. primitive instincts

Author's Note:

Monthly updates look like they're gonna be the norm for a while, as this semester has a lot of reading and I have to prepare for my mission trip in March. I appreciate all of your reviews and comments, and above all your support — especially when you have to wait so long for new chapters haha.

Admittedly, this story is getting a little more difficult to write and I'm not having flashes of inspiration like I used to, but I promise I won't give it up.

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Sixteen  
>Primitive Instincts<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "I Want It AllWe Will Rock You Mash-Up (feat. Armageddon aka Geddy)" - Queen

* * *

><p>Pain shoots up through his legs and knees, his chest tightens, his muscles ache and beg for rest — but he can't stop. Thistle hears it, whatever <em>it<em> actually is, but he doesn't dare risk a glance over his shoulder. He could trip and fall, but more than that he fears what he could see. He doesn't know what he's running from, but he knows that it's not another tribute, and while his rationale tells him otherwise he also knows that it's not human.

He can't hear anything but the pounding of his heart, but Thistle thinks he might be putting some distance between them. He needs to find shelter, some place that will keep him safe; he doesn't have any weapons on him.

_"I can't stop,"_ he thinks as he pushes himself to run faster and harder. Even if his body wants to give out, he _can't_.

Thistle's heart leaps when he hears a feral growl behind him. His fear and instinct get the better of him and he looks back — and screams.

* * *

><p>River and Drizzle are on their own, hiding out in the abandoned house that's been their home for two weeks. Yesterday, they split up into two groups to search for Joel. After a fruitless day of looking, River, Drizzle, and Thistle returned, but there has been no sight of the other two. Thistle went out on his own in the morning to scout for any of the three in their group, and River and Drizzle have been subjected to hopeful waiting. The older male of the group has only been gone for a couple of hours, but they're getting anxious.<p>

"Do you think they're okay?" River asks.

Drizzle shrugs. "I dunno. Oralee and Oliver have been gone for a long time. If they were still alive, they probably would've come back by now."

A small dip in River's brow appears. "Don't say stuff like that."

"Like what? The truth?"

River presses her lips into a thin line as she holds herself back from hitting the blonde. Despite having been in her class for several years now, River doesn't know much about Drizzle other than the fact that she's always alone. She spent no time with her, even if they were the same age, and the first time she ever really talked to Drizzle was at the beginning of these Games. They're in an alliance because Oralee and Thistle promised to keep them safe because they were younger than the others, but with the absence of both of them River feels no camaraderie with the ashy-haired girl from District 3. It was okay before because there were Joel and Oralee (_and Ruby_, a voice whispers at the back of her mind), but now there's a disconnect.

"Do you even care about everyone else?"

There's a pause before she says, "I need to get back to my mom." River notices that Drizzle doesn't actually look at her when she says this, that her eyes are focused entirely on the wall.

River briefly thinks about her family back home: dad's always working, mom finds stuff to keep herself busy, big brother's usually at work or with friends. She wonders what they're doing now, if they're watching these Games or if they're trying to forget about it (and her). She wonders if they care now because they know she's gone or if they've even noticed. Jealousy stirs within her as she looks at Drizzle, friendless and cold and awkward, who has a mother that wants her back.

"You're selfish," River says, because that's all she can think of. Drizzle doesn't look the least bit affected, which only increases River's anger. "All of us wanna go home! You're not the only one."

"I know that," she replies calmly, "but you don't get it. All of us wanna go home, but only one can."

"That doesn't mean—"

"You don't get it."

"No, _you_ don't get it!" River snaps, now standing. "You wanna get home, but you can't do it without other people. You're weak and you need help, but you don't care about the others. If you wanna be on your own, then be on your own."

Drizzle watches as River grabs her bag and storms out of the house; she makes no movement to chase after the girl who doesn't look back. Maybe it's because there's no point, because they have nothing in common other than the goal to stay alive, and even that conflicts. Maybe it's because River is right and Drizzle really doesn't care, because she wants to be alone and because she's used to it. Drizzle doesn't depend on anyone, and she's definitely better off without people depending on her. Most people are scared of being alone, whereas it gives her comfort.

River just doesn't understand.

* * *

><p>Korra wrings out the wash cloth before placing it on Oralee's forehead. The younger girl is alive, but still unconscious and heavily wounded; Korra doesn't expect her to wake up any time soon.<p>

She was in the building when the explosives went off but managed to get away with a few minor scratches and bruises. Her first instinct told her to get out before the building collapsed, but she stayed — more than that, she went up. It was dangerous, stupid, and risky, but her legs carried her up through the smoke and fire. Finally, on the seventh floor, she found Oralee's body lying on the ground, unmoving and unresponsive. She should have left the girl, who was half-dead, but reasoned that she already ran up seven flights of stairs. Pure adrenaline kicked in and Korra managed to escape the burning building with Oralee more or less in tact.

Korra sits next to her body, every now and then making sure that her pulse is still there. Oralee's wounded arm keeps drawing Korra's attention, but there's not much that the latter can do about it. Even if she knew how to make an effective splint, there's nothing for her to use. The best she can do is wrap it and use some cloth for a sling, though that won't do anything to fight off infection. On top of her arm, which is as good as useless in this situation, she has several other deep cuts and burns, and her lungs must be filled with smoke. Oralee would probably be better off dead.

"What a pain," she mumbles.

_Ding._

Her eyes shift upwards at the sharp sound and she spots the white parachute descending from the sky. _"That's one of those sponsor items."_ Korra quickly crawls over to it when it lands, pulls the silver container attached to it onto her lap, and twists off the cap. Inside is a clear gel with the faint scent of mint. "Medicine…?" Curiously, she dips two fingers in and applies the substance to a cut on her knee. Almost immediately the redness fades to pink and the puckered skin around the cut goes down. _"More like a miracle!"_ She shuffles over to Oralee and slathers the ointment onto her arm; the remedial effects go to work quickly, healing inflammation and fighting off infection.

Amazed, Korra ogles the elixir and wonders what's in it. She visited the hospital and infirmary many a times back home, but never has she seen such an effective cure. Deciding that this may be the best thing she can have in the Game, Korra puts it in a hidden breast pocket in her jacket.

Feeling relieved, she sits back and waits.

* * *

><p>It's dangerous to be out in the open, but Mykal and Rea are desperate for food. They scour the Cornucopia which has long since been cleared out simply because they don't know where else to look. "There isn't anything here," Rea says, falling back onto an empty crate.<p>

Mykal, even if she knows what Rea says is true, continues to go through the scraps. "We have to keep looking."

"But there isn't—"

"Can you shut up if you're not actually gonna help?" Mykal snaps. Docile Rea, so used to Mykal's friendliness, shrinks back in embarrassment; the redness in her cheeks is due to a mixture of humiliation and silent anger. Sighing irritably, Mykal goes back to her fruitless search, if not for the slim chance that she'll find something than merely for something to do. Part of her feels bad for responding to Rea like that, but she's hungry, she has a headache, and her limbs won't stop shaking. Mykal's family isn't very well off so she's used to having small portions, but even this is getting to be too much for her.

She's deep within the Cornucopia when she finally decides to take a break. "Geez," Mykal mumbles as she slides down the wall. As she wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm, she steals a glance in Rea's direction; the curly-haired female is still sitting on the crate with her head in her hands.

They're both doubting this alliance. There were four of them at first — Mykal, Rea, Keldon, and Korra — but Korra's disappeared and Keldon is… (_"Dead,"_ a voice in the back of Mykal's head affirms painfully.) It seemed like such a good idea the night before the Games, but Mykal and Rea have lost the people they were closest to and now there's really no reason to stay. Mykal has nothing to offer Rea, and Rea is getting on Mykal's nerves. They're still together for convenience and safety's sake, but it's almost unnecessary.

_"I should tell her to leave,"_ Mykal thinks as she nudges at the floor with her boot, _"before one of us goes crazy and kills the other."_ Her heart thuds against her chest at the thought that plays a series of possibilities through her mind. It's a joke of course, because Mykal could never kill anyone, but her imagination gets the better of her and her headache intensifies because of it. Suppressing a quiet moan of pain, she draws up her knees and lays her forehead against it.

"Hey there!" Mykal's head snaps up at the familiar voice. "What are you doin' out here all alone?" The words are meant to be friendly and playful, but the tone is anything but. When she recognizes the voice and puts a face to it, Mykal carefully backs up further into the shadows to keep herself concealed; she does not feel safe around Lila.

Rea, already on her feet, swallows thickly and slowly steps away from the redhead. She doesn't say anything, just tries to steady her breathing and stay calm, which is difficult to do when all she can do is look at the blades in Lila's grasp.

"Oh, cat got your tongue?" Lila coos.

Rea shakes her head.

Lila quirks an eyebrow. "Sorry, I can't hear you." She notices that Rea's gaze is firmly attached to her weapons, so she raises one experimentally; sure enough, Rea takes a large step backwards. "Do you think I'm gonna kill you?"

The question is direct and crude, and it shakes Rea to the core. It was different before, saying things like "You're gonna die" or "We're going to have to kill each other," because it was a far away idea. Now, after everything that's happened, after seeing her classmates change, after watching them die, the words are so much more potent. They're no longer ideas, but actual threats. "You wouldn't," Rea replies, trying to steady her quivering voice. "You couldn't. I know you couldn't kill anyone, Lila."

That hits home. Rea barely catches a glimpse of the twisted look of disgust on Lila's face before she's suddenly pinned to the ground by stronger and longer limbs. She chokes and struggles and flails, but it's all for nothing underneath Lila's trained muscles. "You're wrong," she spits out, a wild gleam in her aquamarine eyes. "You and Phoenix — you're both wrong." Rea briefly wonders what Phoenix has to do with any of this, but then Lila pushes an arm hard against her throat and she has to focus entirely on just breathing. She can feel the metal collar dig into her skin. "It's not a matter of being able to kill someone. It's the fact that I have to." Rea struggles for air, but the pressure of Lila's strength and the collar make it impossible. "I have to do this." Lila's breaths come out shallowly and the frantic glimmer in her eyes has hollowed out. She's talking to herself, forgetting about where she is and who she's with.

Rea is suffocating and on the brink of death, but Mykal hasn't moved. Mykal is a confident girl, but Lila is much stronger than her and she knows that there is no way she can overcome her in a physical battle. Honestly, Lila scares her.

_"But Rea's gonna die,"_ she thinks.

Just minutes ago she was thinking about how she didn't want to be with Rea anymore. For days she's been thinking about leaving Rea and disbanding the alliance. For all intents and purposes, Mykal doesn't want to be around Rea. Here is her opportunity not only to get away from the District 3 female, but also to get rid of another competitor. All alliances will fall in the end anyway and only _one_ will return home, so why delay the inevitable? A dark voice in Mykal's mind tells her that this is for the better, that this is good.

_"But watching her die…"_

Mykal can see Rea's limbs spasming underneath Lila's body; it makes her sick to her stomach, so she averts her eyes.

_"Closing your eyes doesn't stop it from happening. She's dying in front of you. You could save her."_

But she's weaker than Lila.

_"You could try."_

She stopped trying after she lost Keldon.

"What the hell!?" A startled cry from Lila tears Mykal from the recesses of her mind. The red-haired girl is no longer on top of Rea, but instead on her hands and rear; she wears an expression of terror. "What the hell is that!?" Mykal can't see what it is that has turned the tables on Lila, but it drives her to jump up, run, and even leave behind her weapons. Mykal starts to crawl towards the entrance of the Cornucopia, towards Rea's unmoving body, but an inhuman growl stops her in her tracks.

_"A monster?"_

She can sense _it_ — large, powerful, looming — sniffing around Rea. She sees sharp claws attached to scaly paws before she promptly shuts her eyes and presses herself to the wall of the Cornucopia. Fear overwhelms her, but she tries to control her breathing so that she doesn't give herself away.

Mykal remains like that for what feels like an eternity before she can allow herself to open her eyes once more. Where Rea's body once was is a bloody print.

* * *

><p>Mattheo is dead.<p>

They were friends back home, maybe even up until the end considering the fact that he spent so much time searching for her. Their friendship has always been one-sided, though; Terra is popular and charismatic and meeting people has never been a problem for her, but Mattheo lacked her confidence and adaptability. Terra always knew it, too, that he needed her more than she needed him, that she and Riley were really the only friends he had. Mattheo truly loved her, whereas she saw him as someone who was nice to have around. It's all very unfair, she realizes, especially when she feels nothing for the smiling face in the sky. There is a sense of loss, but in a way a child feels sad when they lose their favorite toy.

Terra chews on some dried fruit she finds in Rain's bag. Her stomach still rumbles from lack of nutrition, but the fact that she has something to eat now is enough to satiate it. She glances at the wounded girl in the corner of the room. Rain has long since passed out from pain and exhaustion, with the arrow still lodged into the back of her shoulder. The dagger hangs at Terra's side, unused.

She knows she's capable of killing and Rain would be so easy to take out, but she doesn't. _"She's probably gonna die anyway," _Terra thinks. _"I should just take her out of her misery."_ She walks towards and stands over Rain's unconscious body, the blade flickers in the light, there's no sign of struggle, and she could _just do it_—

But she doesn't.

_"What the hell is wrong with you? She's dying. She's practically dead. Just end it now."_ Her grip around the handle tightens as she tries to fortify her resolve. _"You'll be doing her a favor. Someone else'll kill her if you don't. She's gonna die."_ She's killed before; this shouldn't be a problem. _"But I didn't mean to kill Ruby. It was an accident. I didn't _want_ to kill Ruby!"_ Her hands shake, her breathing hitches, and the phantoms return.

"Terra, there you are!"

"Terra!"

_"No, no, no,"_ she mouths as she grips her head. The phantoms are not real, not standing in front of her, not trying to talk to her. They're not real — they're just in her mind. _"No, no, leave me alone!"_

One phantom rushes towards her with long arms. It grasps her by the shoulders quickly, refuses to let her go, shakes her and cries out sounds that she can't understand. Terra wails as she tries to push it away, to get it to leave her alone and stop following her, but it's too strong. _"I'm scared! No, no, please! Please don't hurt me, I didn't want to kill Ruby! I wasn't going to kill Rain! Please, I won't hurt anyone anymore if you stop!"_ But the arms close in on her and the sounds become terrible screams and all Terra can see is black.

She grasps the dagger, thrusts it forward, and the phantom falls.

* * *

><p>The first feeling that washes over Riley is white shock. She looks deep into Terra's eyes, searches for any trace of the best friend she once had, searches for her laughter, her joy of life, her soul. All she finds is clouded terror.<p>

Then comes the pain. Her scream comes out choked and scrambled as her hands grasp at the blade in her stomach. She can't do anything but fall to her knees as her entire body burns up. She tries to call to someone for help, silently pleads for God to save her, but can't find a voice for the words. Riley hunches over with her head on the ground and clenches her teeth and eyes, wanting the pain to stop. Right now she isn't thinking about Terra who stabbed her or Mattheo who's dead or Lewis who's with her; right now all she can think is, _"I don't wanna die."_

Her companion remains immobilized, at a complete loss of what to do. Riley is dying but all Lewis is concerned about is how frantic and delusional Terra is. She's whispering to herself in a heated and frenzied manner, like she's trying to convince herself of something. _"She's crazy,"_ he thinks.

"Lewis…!" Riley's plea is soft, but the desperation behind it draws him from his thoughts. "Lewis, please…!"

Riley is his ally, and allies are meant to help each other. "Here, I'll—" He steps forward, but Lorea grabs him by the arm with both hands to keep him in place. "Lorea, what are you doing? Riley's hurt and we have to help her."

"She's dead, Lewis," Lorea says, jaw hard and teeth clenched. "We need to get out of here." She steals a glance in Terra's direction, then shifts her attention to Rain and assumes the worst. "Two people are already down. Do you wanna join them?"

"But Riley—" He yelps when she digs her nails into his skin. "Ow! Lorea, stop!"

"This stupid alliance was a mistake from the beginning. She's _dead_, Lewis." Lewis is taken back by the adamant tone taken on by his sister, who's always been so cool-headed and non-confrontational. The intensity of her expression and the grip on his arm frightens him. "Let's go." Lorea is smaller than Lewis, but she easily drags him out of the vicinity, away from Riley and Terra. He doesn't realize the control she has over him until they're far down the road, and he wrenches himself away from her. "What's the matter with you?" she asks, her voice back to its usual indifference.

His jaw drops in disbelief. "What's wrong with _you_, Lorea? You just— We just left Riley behind in there and we could have saved her! Terra's gonna kill her for sure! We have to go back."

"Riley is already dead," she snaps. "There's no way she's gonna survive from that. You wanna go back and help out someone who's already been slaughtered? Go ahead, but I'm not helping you. Don't be stupid, Lewis."

For a moment, Lewis doesn't say anything; he just looks at Lorea. On the outside, she's more or less the same girl: slender, fair, small features. This person he's looking at, though, this selfish girl can't possibly be his Lorea. "What's wrong with you?" he repeats, this time in a softer, more solemn voice.

Lorea swallows thickly before answering. "Nothing. I'm doing what I have to do. For once, _you're_ the one who has a problem, not me." Before he can ask her what she means, she storms off.

Lewis stands alone, confused. He looks back at the building where Riley is probably waiting for him to save her, then to Lorea whose strides are strong. Riley is his ally, but Lorea is his sister; he doesn't have a choice, not really. He jogs after Lorea until he's in line with her, but she doesn't acknowledge him. He tries to negativity that festers in the back of his mind, but he knows that something is wrong.

* * *

><p>The arrow goes whizzing by Zook's ear, barely scraping the skin beneath his cheek. He still gasps, more out of shock than actual pain, as he clasps a hand to the stinging wound. Ahead of him, Dahlia turns and gives him an inquisitive look. "What's wrong?" she asks.<p>

"Someone just shot that at us! At me!" He grabs the arrow off the ground and waves it at her. "Didn't you see it?" She shrugs, but the fear in her eyes is plain to see. "Where did it come from?" Zook spins around, searching for any signs of their attacker.

"I don't know!" she replies, her voice hitching. "Let's just get out of here!"

"We don't know where they are," he says, trying to remain calm and reasonable because Dahlia is starting to panic. "We could be walking right into them."

"Well we can't just stand around here like this," she says. "We're out in the open! We might as well have targets on our foreheads. C'mon Zook, let's go, please." Just as she moves to grab him by the arm, another arrow comes shooting out of no where; it pierces the air between Zook and Dahlia, which is enough to force them both to step backwards. "Zook, seriously!" Dahlia bites down on her lip until it starts to turn blue. "We have to get out of here."

His own body shakes from nervousness, but he manages to nod his head. Now isn't the time to figure out where the attackers are. "A-alright, c'mon."

They barely turn the corner before running right into Cole. "You missed," he says, irritation rooted in his mono tone.

Allegra appears from behind; it's a two-pronged attack. "I couldn't get a good shot." Though she does a fairly good job of covering it off, her voice trembles. Zook can see that her knuckles are white from grasping her bow so hard; she's just as scared as they are. "Sorry."

"You're useless," is all he says before he swipes at Zook, who's nearest to him, with his sword. The swing is sloppy and the angle is awkward, but Zook doesn't expect it and the blade easily creates a gash in his arm. Zook shouts, falling away from the force and in an attempt to put distance between himself and Cole, while Dahlia desperately grasps at him. Cole says nothing more as he stalks towards them once more, raising his sword for another attack.

Cole is tall, strong, and intimidating, and Dahlia knows that neither she nor Zook have the manpower to combat him. They can try to run away all they can, but he will find them and he will kill them. Her eyes move to the sword gleaming in the air before her instincts kick in. She grabs a knife from the pouch that hangs around her waist and flicks it in his direction. It takes Cole by surprise, but the knife misses him completely and falls to the ground with a loud "clink." He quickly analyzes the knife, then turns his eyes to Dahlia; they're darker now, and much more serious. Because she fought back, he acknowledges her as his enemy.

Dahlia recognizes the primal expression and her heart leaps to her throat. "Zook—!" Cole is on her like an animal, slashing and cutting and swiping, but he barely manages to catch her clothes each time. She avoids his attacks with quick movements, though they're hurried and powered by little more than adrenaline. Each time he gets in close, her eyes zone in on the blade and she knows that she has to get away because there's no way she can survive against cold steel.

"Dahlia!" Zook gasps, clutching at the bleeding gash on his arm. His body is screaming at him to rest or find medicine or alleviate the pain, but he's too worried about his friend. She can outrun and dodge Cole's attacks for now, but sheer speed won't give her victory over someone like him.

Cole swings high, at her face, and this time he doesn't miss. The cut is shallow, but it extends from the right side of her chin to her left temple. Blood is everywhere.

The platinum blonde immediately falls to the ground with a scream, pressing her hands to her face and trying to wipe the blood out of her eye (_everything is red red red and she can't see)_. Zook is up and at her side within the blink of an eye. He grabs her shoulders with urgency, tries to get her to look at him but she refuses to raise her head from her hands. "Dolly, c'mon," he pleads with her. "We gotta go, you gotta get up, please Dolly—" He can hear Cole behind him and he knows they're both going to die.

Someone screams. It takes Zook a moment to realize that it's Cole.

"Get out of here!" Allegra yells, already running away herself. "Just get out of here!" She spares them a final glance over her shoulder before she disappears down an alleyway.

Stunned, Zook looks at Cole, who's hunched over in pain from the arrow lodged into his thigh. _"She shot him,"_ he thinks. Allegra shot her ally… But why? _"It doesn't matter. Get the hell out of here!" _Regaining his senses, Zook uses his good arm to pull Dahlia to her feet and urges her to run. "We gotta go, Dolly. C'mon." Even if they're wounded, they run as fast as they can, and neither of them look back.

* * *

><p>Lana wanders around with annoyance inscribed deep into her pretty features, though the worry is also very heavy on her brow. "Where the hell are those guys? This is why we don't split up." Granted, it had been <em>her<em> suggestion to break up into two groups to search for food, but either Zook or Dahlia should have fought against it. _"Dumb idea…" _Of course, she has nothing to show for her hour of effort, and she highly doubts that they have anything either. _"I'm starving…"_

"Lana?"

Instantly she tenses at the voice and her fists go up in defense. As soon as she realizes who's there, however, her face turns beet red and her hands fall to her sides. "Geez, were you really gonna try to pound into all of us?" Catcher asks, wearing a playful grin. "One girl against three guys…?"

Hawk scoffs. "Remember when she slapped Vlain after the dance? I'm sure she could tear out a couple of throats if she really wanted to."

Altair clears his throat, interrupting the banter between the two. He greets her with a soft smile. "How are you doing?" he asks.

It's such a stupidly simple question. It minimizes everything that's happened to everyone, gives a false sense of normality, asks her to define this constant fear and terror in words. _How are you doing_, he asks, like they're friends or classmates meeting up. Altair probably still _does_ think they're like that because he looks for the best in people, and for some reason that infuriates her. They're fighting for their lives, trying to survive and make sense of what's going on, and he asks _How are you doing_.

Her silence stretches out the atmosphere, making it tense. Hawk quirks an eyebrow, notices the confused expression on Catcher's face, then nudges Altair with his elbow. The bronze-haired male swallows thickly, confused by the conflict she has on her face. It has been weeks since they've seen each other, but can so much have changed in so little time? Physically she looks fine, just a couple scratches here and there, but he also has to wonder why she's alone. Wasn't she supposed to be with Zook and Dahlia? Perhaps that's what's taken such a toll on her psyche.

"Uh, sorry," she says finally, reaching up to awkwardly tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm fine. I'm okay."

Altair isn't convinced, but he nods anyway. "Good. Ah…"

Hawk asks the question that Altair is hesitant to bring up: "Where's Zook and Dahlia?"

At the mention of her comrades, her shoulders hitch and the dip in her brow deepens. "Oh, we split up."

They're all surprised because the three of them have always been close friends. "What happened?" Catcher asks.

"What do you mean?" Now she's confused. "We got hungry, so we split up to look for food."

"Oh!" says Altair. "When you said you split up, we thought you meant…"

"Oh, no. No, yeah, I mean, technically we're still together." The conversation is awkward and uncomfortable, at least to Lana. The three of them look so content with each other, like they're just out on an afternoon stroll, but she's on her own and she almost feels like she's been cornered. She knows that Altair would never hurt her (she doesn't know the other two well enough to say the same for them), but something about this situation puts her on edge. "Um, I need to find them now. It's been a while and I'm getting kinda worried. See ya." The farewell is strange on her lips and it feels inappropriate.

"Wait!" Altair's the one who calls after her. "You don't have to go out on your own. We can—"

Sometimes, she thinks, Altair's too nice. Sometimes she wishes she could slap him for it. "No, I'll be fine," she insists. "You guys, ah… You guys be careful." She doesn't really mean it because she wants to win and go home. Indirectly, that also means that she wants them to lose and die. Her legs tremble at the wicked thought. "Bye."

The trio watch Lana's back until her figure disappears into the distance. "That was weird," Hawk says, folding his arms across his chest. "Didn't you say the two of you were close?"

Altair shrugs, though he does look a little sad. "I guess she has a lot on her mind. We all do." He rubs the back of his neck out of discomfort. His fingers brush against curly hair, and he draws them back in surprise; his hair has gotten long. _"How long has it been since I cut it?"_ The day of his birthday party, he minds himself, before their field trip with Professor Porter. The day before all of this began.

"Altair," Catcher says. "Should we head back now?"

"Hm, yeah. We don't wanna worry the others."

* * *

><p>The beast snaps at Luke's face with its teeth, but he manages to keep it at bay by grasping its throat. "Get outta here!" he shouts to the others. It growls again and bites at him once more. Its claws dig into the ground and its large tail sways threateningly behind it; it cages him in completely. "I've got him!" Luke's strength is deteriorating and his arms feel like they're going to give out soon, but he can't give up. "What are you guys still doing here!? Get lost! Phoenix, get 'em out!"<p>

"No, Luke, we can help!" Skyloh shouts. Her cheek is already starting to bruise from the lash the monster's tail gave her.

"No!" he replies through gritted teeth. "Joel's with you and—" The monster suddenly raises one claw and swipes at his face. Luke raises an arm and shifts his body, the claws tear through the jacket and skin of his arm, and his grip around its throat falls. This is it, he realizes as it shrieks and prepares for the final attack. This is how he's going to die.

He closes his eyes and waits for the end, but it doesn't come. The beast is still screaming, but its red eyes are no longer focused on him. One of Skyloh's axes is buried in its back, so its attention has shifted to her, giving Luke time to crawl away from it. "Dammit," he grunts, panting, as it rushes towards her. "I told you guys to get out of here."

Joel's already by his side, observing the red and purple wounds on Luke's arm. "I'm sorry," he says. He pulls out a roll of bandages and tries to administer some kind of tourniquet to stop the bleeding. "But we couldn't just leave you."

Despite the situation, Luke has to smile fondly.

"It's still not dead!" Skyloh says. She dives out of the way of another attack, which has the monster crashing into the wall. "What do we do?" Her movements are frantic and her eyes are everywhere as she waits for it to attack once more. She only has one more axe, and with it rushing at her she's not sure how useful it will be.

"I don't know," Phoenix answers honestly. The monster is unlike anything they've seen before, with clawed hands and feet and a tail like a tree trunk. Its skin is covered in thick scales, which only Skyloh's axe has been able to penetrate. The only reasonable thing to do here is run, but considering its speed, that won't do them much good either. They're stuck between a rock and a hard place.

They aren't given much more time to deliberate before the monster returns, barreling through the hole in the wall and towers Phoenix. He cries out when its body rams into him, bruising and knocking the wind out of him, and he crashes onto the floor. He uses what he has — his fists and legs — to try to keep it away, but it's too strong and its sharp teeth dig deep into his leg. Phoenix screams from the pain and because he knows he stands no chance.

The monster is just about to tear off his leg when Skyloh jumps on its back, wraps her arms around its thick shoulders to steady herself, and slams the blade of her axe into its neck. Immediately it releases its hold on Phoenix's bloody leg, but it's still alive and she has to continue hacking. Finally, with a weak cry, it falls.

Skyloh rolls off it, breathing heavily and practically on the brink of tears, and rushes to Phoenix. She doesn't say anything, doesn't ask "Are you alright?" because it would be pointless and unnecessary. His leg from the knee down is a mess, and she's sure it'll become infected soon. The sweat intermingles with the dirt and tears on his face, and his eyes are closed tightly. She silently beckons for Luke and Joel to come over, and it's then that she realizes that Luke is wounded as well.

"We shouldn't stay here," Joel says. He can't bring himself to look at the dead monster at their feet or at Phoenix who is trembling from the pain, so he keeps his gaze on Skyloh. "We need to get to safety and… and find some medicine."

"Yeah, you're right," she says. She tries to stand up, but her knees knock together and she has to kneel to recollect herself. "I… I need some help with Phoenix."

Joel is too small, so Luke volunteers. Before she can protest about his arm, he raises his good one in response. "I can do it," he says with a grin. "Don't worry about me."

It's a struggle, but they manage to prop Phoenix up between Skyloh and Luke. They slowly, carefully walk out of the building, towards safety and hopefully to where their allies are. Joel treads beside them because Skyloh insists that he stay in their sight.

"That was really dangerous," Skyloh says eventually, breaking the silence.

Luke nods. (Skyloh and Joel can tell that he's trying to mask his own discomfort.) "At least we're still alive."

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Down in the Valley" - The Head and the Heart<p>

_Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways..._

* * *

><p><strong>Tributes deceased:<strong>

District 1: Jorden Biber  
>District 2: <strong>Riley Maryn<br>**District 3: Oliver Winters,** Rea  
><strong>District 7: Keldon Peak  
>District 8: Nyle Grimmsley, Kate Abner<br>District 10: Mattheo Shermore  
>District 11: Ruby Samim<br>District 12: **Thistle Black**

* * *

><p>I actually meant to get this out a week ago, but then I got lazy and it was hard to write and I didn't wanna give you guys something half-assed since I made you wait for so long. I got back into this week, though, so I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! I'm really attached to some characters now, so it's getting harder to narrow it down.<p>

I decided to keep up a list of tributes gone, so you guys could keep track. Since this is the first chapter I'm doing this, I listed all the ones deceased up to now, but I bolded the ones specifically killed in this chapter. If it isn't totally obvious, I do keep around the tributes whose authors are still reviewing/PMing me.

Now for some questions!

**1) Who's your least favorite tribute(s)? Why?**

**2) What character would you most like to see a featured chapter on? (You can't choose your own tribute, ha ha.)**

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	19. intermission: allegra grimstone

Author's Note:

Ahhh. I legitimately contemplated discontinuing this because of my lack of inspiration, but... I went back and reread it and reread the reviews, and I remembered why I fell in love with writing this story in the first place. I know I've lost a lot of readers (and gained some new ones — hello!), but I am so fond of those of you who have stuck around. Thank you all so much; reading your reviews every now and then reminds me why I love to write in the first place, haha.

Here's another short intermission. A lot of people wanted a chapter on Allegra (and I kind of wanted to delve into her character more as well), so here we go.

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Intermission  
>Allegra Grimstone<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "Nightingale" - Demi Lovato<p>

* * *

><p>Auburn hair, willowy build, long legs, porcelain skin, bright green eyes: Allegra Grimstone meets society's idea of beauty in every way. They compliment the volume of her hair, the color of her eyes, the model's body that she so effortlessly keeps. They call her fair, lovely, alluring, stunning. Even when she's dressed down in District 13's drab uniform and she's forced to pull her hair back and she lines up with the others, she sticks out.<p>

But Allegra has never looked in the mirror and thought, _I look beautiful._

"Your filthy hair is everywhere. Clean yourself up."

"What are you wearing? Do you want all the attention, you slut?"

"You look like you haven't seen sun in years."

"People will start saying we aren't feeding you, you look so malnourished."

"Stop embarrassing this family!"

They're just idiots, her aunt and the rest of them. They didn't want her after her parents died in the accident, but she had no where else to go and they were forced to take her in, so they're ambivalent. They try to break her down and remind her of how useless she is, but their words mean nothing; they're pathetic.

Allegra doesn't see the beauty that everyone harps about because it doesn't matter. Good looks won't get her anywhere in District 13 (in fact, they probably make her a target), and who would she want to impress anyway? Certainly not that pathetic excuse for a family, and she could care less about what her peers think of her. Beauty is so subjective and it changes at the snap of a finger. It has no use, and it certainly doesn't define her worth.

Allegra builds herself up, makes herself stronger, sets up walls to keep out those who will surely bring her down. She doesn't want sympathy or pity (her parents are dead — she's gotten over it, so why hasn't everyone else?), doesn't need charity or words of comfort. She can take care of herself, the way she always has. People compliment her and tell her how envious they are of her, but it's usually only after they find out about her dead parents and bitch aunt. She's seen every form of pity — genuine, fake, reactive, morally compelled — and she hates all of them equally. She's pretty tired of everyone talking about her as "the poor, beautiful orphan," like she's out of some fairytale.

She keeps to herself when her aunt ships her off to the Academy. People try to talk to her at first, try to get more out of the quiet girl from 13, but she says nothing and eventually they become disinterested. Even pretty orphans get boring after a while.

They call her an introvert, and she doesn't protest. She doesn't try to make friends or find a boyfriend or settle in with a clique because she just doesn't _care_. Yes, it does bother her that most people choose only to talk to her because they feel bad for her, but that's not what really keeps her away from them. The main factor is simple: she doesn't want or need them. What's their use? Friendships are just as fleeting as beauty. One minute people claim to be best friends and the next they're stabbing each other in the back. It sounds like more of a hassle than anything, and the last thing Allegra needs is more complications.

So the Hunger Games come, and she's convinced that she has the upper hand because she has nothing to lose. She doesn't have to protect friends, doesn't have to uphold alliances because of past relationships, doesn't have to worry about her family back home — she doesn't have to worry about any of them. When she fights, she fights for herself, and that's what's going to get her back home. (But there's still a voice in the back of her head: _If you don't have anything to go back to, why fight at all? What does it matter? Who cares if I die?_) The others will cry and fall as their friends die, but Allegra doesn't need to worry about that kind of loss.

She crosses Merope's stage with confidence, tackles all the practice stations with ease, presents herself as a cool-headed competitor. She's a shoe-in to win.

(_But does that even matter?_)

And then Ruby dies (is murdered), and something changes.

Allegra was in the car when her parents died, but she was only four and she barely remembers their faces. This is the first time that she has ever really seen death, and there's something so striking and painful and horrifying about it that it stirs her to the core. The way her body crumbles into Hawk's arms, the way the light fades from her eyes, the way her body turns white, the way her blood paints and stains the ground — it makes her feel sick. More than anything, it scares her, and Allegra has never been scared of anything in her life. For the first time, she feels truly alive, and she is standing at death's door.

She tries to steel herself, tries to stifle the fear and anxiety, tries to go back to the way things were. But being apathetic and indifferent is so much easier when you're ignorant.

When she watches Cole kill Nyle with his bare hands, she tastes blood in her mouth. She experiences disgust, pain, and nausea — but does she really have the right? She's wounded Jorden, threatened others with weapons, had just shot and hit Rain. Isn't she the same as Cole? (_"No, I didn't _actually _want to kill them."_) Lila planned this alliance because the three of them are like-minded, but Allegra looks into Cole's eyes and she knows they're not the same. Cole is fighting for something and will kill to make sure he gets back home to it; Allegra is still struggling to find her place in this world.

(_Why is she fighting for a place in a world she doesn't care about?_)

She doesn't know why she does it, when she shoots Cole. Maybe it's because she can't stand to watch him kill another person. Maybe it's because the blood on his hands and the blood in Dahlia's eyes is making her sick. Maybe it's because she's scared of Cole. She doesn't know why, but the arrow flies, and she runs.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Demons" - Imagine Dragons<p>

_But with the beast inside there's no where we can hide_

* * *

><p>I do like writing the character insights, because it's such a big cast and it's hard to really focus on each individual. I thought about writing more about her past, but more people wanted to know about her motive for shooting Cole (myself included? ahaha...), so I thought this approach was more appropriate.<p>

I hope you enjoyed reading, and hopefully the next chapter will be up soon.

_may the odds be ever in your favor,_

der kapitan


	20. crumple

Author's Note:

Okay, here's chapter seventeen, at last. I'm really pushing myself to get back into the swing of things because I just realized _holy shit this thing has been up for a year_, so happy birthday to this fic and all of you involved! I also forgot how plot heavy I intended this to be, so I might have a couple stumbling blocks but... eh, as long as you guys are here whatevs haha.

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Chapter Seventeen  
>Crumple<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "I Want It AllWe Will Rock You Mash-Up (feat. Armageddon aka Geddy)" - Queen

* * *

><p>Phoenix's labored breathing keeps the atmosphere tense. They all try to sleep in order to recuperate from the day's battle, but he's breaking out into a fever and the rest are too worried. (Some of them are too afraid to sleep anyway, because while the monster is dead in reality it is still fresh in their memories and dreams.) Joel stays by Phoenix's side the most, administering attempts to alleviate the pain and make him more comfortable, but even the twelve-year-old can see that Phoenix is pushing himself. At one point, when Phoenix grits his teeth and closes his eyes, Joel looks down at his wounded leg and nearly vomits from the sight of mangled purple flesh and caked blood.<p>

Both Skyloh and Luke sit against the wall, legs pulled up and heads lolled to the side. _Poor Joel_, Skyloh thinks as she watches the boy apply a new wet towel to Phoenix's forehead. She doesn't really know why she thinks _poor Joel_ instead of _poor Phoenix_, the one who's really in need of their sympathies and attention. Maybe it's because Joel's so young and he's been forced to witness all these disgusting things, like classmates killing each other and monsters gnawing off limbs. Maybe it's because of how distraught Joel looks. Maybe it's because she knows (_they all _must _know_) that his efforts are fruitless and he's tending to a dead man.

Sighing, she hunches her shoulders and drops her head against her knees. "How're you doing?" Luke asks, rubbing her back.

"I'm tired," she replies.

He nods in agreement, feeling the fatigue from the day's experience and his lack of sleep and food. Sitting still now, he finally realizes how sore his body actually is. "Maybe you should try to sleep," he suggests, to which she merely hums. Both of them know that none of them will be getting any sleep tonight. "Hey, Joel," he says, "do you wanna switch out and take a break? You've been at it for a long time."

Joel quickly shakes his head. "No, I'm fine. Besides, you're still injured, Luke."

Luke looks down at his arm, which hangs in a poorly made sling. "Eh, I don't feel it!" he says, actually laughing. The sound is unfamiliar and strange, even for Luke who always has a reason to smile and laugh.

Joel tries to smile, but he's not as good at feigning emotion. "You should still rest." Luke halfheartedly protests for a little while longer, but Joel won't budge and he's pretty sure Luke's just trying to fill the tense atmosphere with some kind of discussion anyway. Luke has never liked the quiet, but this kind of silence — filled with Phoenix's soft groans and murmurs — is almost painful. "Both of you look sleepy," he says.

Luke grins. "Nah, I could pull an all nighter." Skyloh almost laughs because, even though he means it as a joke, she doubts any of them will get a wink of sleep. "But I hope Hawk and the others aren't too worried about us. We never actually met up with them."

"Well, they didn't see our faces in the sky, so they know we're not dead," Skyloh says. There's something almost too nonchalant in the way she says this, that forces Luke and Joel back into silence. She doesn't seem to catch their discomfort, however. "We'll try to find them in the morning..." Her eyes skirt over to Phoenix; his eyes are closed, but his chest is rising and falling too quickly and his fingers shake at his sides. "_He's not gonna be ready in the morning",_ she thinks. "_There's no way he can walk, and it'd be stupid if we carried him... We'd be walking targets. If we left him behind..."_ The terrible thought rushes through her mind, but she quickly blocks it out and clamps her eyes shut. "_No, that's not even an option."_

Joel cocks his head to the side. "Are you okay?"

"No," she answers honestly, but it's all she says. Her head remains ducked as she wraps her arms tighter around her legs, pulling them closer to her body.

Luke and Joel exchange a look, but neither want to ask what's bothering her. They exchange small talk over her quivering shoulders and Phoenix's heavy breathing, as a way to calm themselves and create a sense of normalcy.

But Skyloh doesn't remember what "normal" is anymore. Normal is back home, thousands of miles away in Unified Panem, far away from the Hunger Games and the Capitol. Normal doesn't belong in this place, among murder and death. She wants to show those Capitol pigs that they don't own her, that they can't control her and make her their puppet for their entertainment, but everyone is slipping. They've already given in. Ten of her classmates are dead and Prime Minister Snow is getting exactly what she wants. Their friendships are being torn apart, alliances are failing, and they're turning on each other.

Maybe the Capitol _is_ stronger.

* * *

><p>Dahlia sits with her back against the wall, her face in her hands and her shoulders still shaking, but better off than she was the night before. The cut made by Cole is shallow, but it'll definitely scar. "<em>Still",<em> Zook thinks as he cleans his own wound, "_at least we're alive."_

"I wonder where Lana is," Dahlia says, her voice muffled by her palms.

"Dunno. I hope she's okay." In their rush to get away from Cole, they'd forgotten about meeting up with Lana. When they finally remembered, hours later, the arena was pitch black. "She's pretty good at blending in. She's probably fine." He's just trying to convince himself of her safety to ease his fears and discomfort, but Dahlia doesn't call him out on it. "Maybe we should try to find her," he suggests, both out of genuine concern and the need to fill up the dead air.

She nods. "Yeah. Yeah, just... Give me a second." She raises her head and blinks, trying to readjust her eyes. "My eyes feel all wonky."

"Probably because Cole added something else between them," he teases.

For a second he thinks she's going to yell at him for being insensitive in a serious situation, but then she merely rolls her eyes and punches his arm. "That was so inappropriate, Zook."

He grins. "Sorry."

Slowly, Dahlia stands up, though she wobbles on her feet a little. "Shit," she mumbles as she extends her hands to Zook. When she pulls him onto his feet, she nearly falls over in the process. "Just give me a second," she says, holding herself up by pressing her hands against the wall.

Zook stands by her side with a hand on her back, wanting to be supportive but unsure of how to actually help. "Are you sure? We can wait here a little longer."

"I'm fine," she says. "I just—"

"Seriously, if you aren't feeling good, you should just sit down. It's not gonna help any of us out if you can barely stay on your feet."

Dahlia grits her teeth. "I'm _fine_, Zook."

He wants to tell her that her stubbornness is being a pain in the ass and that now isn't the time to act cool and tough, but he knows she'll put up a fight until she's blue in the face. Dahlia has never had a problem with expressing herself, especially not verbally, and Zook isn't particularly in the mood to be lashed with her words. "Alright," is all he says, folding his arms across his chest as he leans against the wall. His head tilts to the side to stare out the window; his heart jumps to his throat when he realizes that they aren't alone. "Dolly, quick," he whispers harshly, grasping her upper arm in order to pull her to the side.

"Ow!" she yelps. "What the hell?"

"Just be quiet for a second," he says, pressing a finger to his lips.

After shooting him a short glare, Dahlia turns her attention to the small group of students on the other side of the wall. Lila and Cole stand around a body, both wearing a look of confusion and, in Lila's case, concern. "It doesn't look like anyone killed her," Lila says. When Cole nudges the blue-tinted skin with his boot, Lila winces. "Maybe she just ate a poisonous berry or something."

"She got one of the highest scores in identifying edible plants and roots," Cole replies.

Lila shrugs. "Well shit, I don't know. Anyway, does it really matter? It's one less person to worry about." Cole grunts in agreement. Then, his eyes narrow and move towards the window; the shadows he saw in his peripheral vision are no longer there. "What's up?" Lila asks, noticing the shift in his attention.

"Nothing. C'mon, let's go. I think I saw smoke in that direction."

Zook's heart pounds against his chest and in his ears as he presses himself flat against the wall, as though it'll make him invisible. Dahlia sits beside him with her arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried in her knees; the scar on her face throbs. Neither of them move, not even long after Lila and Cole's footsteps disappear into the distance. Yesterday's encounter is too fresh and vivid in their minds, and knowing that Cole is still healthy and walking despite his wound makes him more terrifying than before.

Dahlia is the first one to stand, though her breathing is shallow and her fingers won't stop shaking. "Dahlia," Zook says, trying to get her attention, but she's already halfway out the door. He curses and scrambles his feet to chase after her, but she just doesn't go far. She stands beside the dead body of Drizzle, her forehead crinkled and the corner of her eyes pinched together in disbelief. "She's... It's like with Kate." Her skin has already started to lose its color, her dark colored eyes have rolled back, and foam continues to spill from her purple lips. Zook's stomach doesn't lurch the way it did when he saw Kate; maybe he's getting used to it. "What should we do?"

"We can't do anything," Dahlia says. She tries to sound strong, but there's a noticeable quiver in her voice. "They're gonna collect her body eventually. Come on, let's find Lana." She grabs his arm as though to steer him, but the way that her fingers cling to him suggests it's more for support. As they walk away, she can't help but steal a glance over her shoulder at the fourteen-year-old's body. "What do you think happened?"

"I dunno. It looks like poison."

"But she—"

"Got a high score and knows what to eat and what not to eat, yeah," he says. "But maybe it wasn't a plant or a berry or anything, you know?"

Dahlia raises an eyebrow. "Then what else could it be?"

He hesitates a moment before answering. "Maybe the Capitol just got bored."

* * *

><p>Oralee's breathing comes out in soft pants as she struggles to find consciousness. Her mind urges her to wake up (<em>there's something important, you have people waiting for you and depending on you, people are going to get hurt without you<em>), but her body fights to keep her down. Her lungs feel like they're on fire, her limbs ache, and her head throbs; her body begs for more rest and time for recuperation, but even in a haze Oralee knows she can't do that. Someone (who?) is waiting for her.

"Woah there," says a muffled voice beside her. "You probably shouldn't be moving around."

Oralee is convinced that it's just one of the many voices swirling around in her mind. "I have to go," she mutters, clawing through the fog. "Someone is... Someone's waiting for me. Let me go, please..."

A heavy weight presses down on her chest and shoulders, keeping her in place. "You're really in no condition to go anywhere," they insist. "You're not helping out anyone, especially not yourself. Just lay down."

"No...! I can't!" She feels tears gather in the corner of her eyes as her emotions get the better of her. "Please, just let me—" Drawing on the little strength she has left, Oralee lifts herself up so that she's sitting, but the movement is too quick and the pain threatens to topple her. As she struggles to stay up (because she knows her consciousness will give way if she lays down again), she wracks her mind for some kind of recollection. _"What was I doing? Who was I with?"_ It hits her all at once and suddenly: the explosion, the burning building, the flames and heat that consumed her, the smoke, Oliver— "Oliver!" she gasps. "Where's Oliver?"

She doesn't even question Korra about why she's there or how either of them managed to get where they are. The first and only question she asks is about Oliver, but Korra doesn't have an answer. _"Not an answer she wants to hear anyway,"_ Korra thinks, swallowing thickly as Oralee tearfully repeats the question. Korra's never really been one to sugarcoat things, but she doesn't dislike Oralee (part of her kind of admires the girl for looking after all the underclassmen, though the other part sees it as a suicide mission) and she's not in a particularly good condition. "I don't know," she says eventually, though she doesn't look Oralee in the eye.

Though physically and emotionally on the edge, Oralee can read through her lie. "I was with him," she says. "Me and Oliver were together in that building. Where is he?"

"You guys weren't together when I got to you," Korra responds. It's unlike her, skirting around the facts, but the more she looks at Oralee's crumpled state, the more she dreads her discovering the truth. _"She really loves those kids,"_ she thinks.

Realization flickers in Oralee's eyes as she slowly leans back, resigned. "Oliver..." She bites down on her lower lip, to keep it from trembling, but nearly draws blood in the process. Korra doesn't say anything (what _can_ she say?) as the tears overflow and stain her cheeks and her shoulders shake violently from the sobs. She turns her head to the side, choosing to ignore it rather than confront it; comfort and solace has never been one of her skills.

But Oralee doesn't need false words of hope or consolation, because none of that will bring Oliver back. _"Oliver's gone... Oliver's gone! I was there with him... I was supposed to take care of him! I told him he could depend on me, but I... But I...!"_ But Oliver is dead, and there was nothing she could do to save him. She remembers the desperation in his eyes as he clung to her hand, the despair that followed when he acknowledged both of them weren't going to be saved. He'd accepted it long before she had — before she ever would. Maybe if she had done something different, if she'd used more power or strength, if she had just found some way to pull him up. She swims in her _maybe maybe maybe_'s, as though if finding an alternative will change the outcome. _"I couldn't save him. I couldn't bring him back home. I promised them... I promised all of them..!"_

Korra jumps to her feet, and the loud sound of her shuffle snaps Oralee out of her thoughts. Korra is poised for attack, throwing knives at the ready, and Oralee immediately sees why. Allegra stands in the doorway to the house, but she's alone and her bow and arrow hang from her back. Nonetheless, Korra doesn't back down. "What are you doing here?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at the potential threat. "Where are Lila and Cole?"

"I don't know," she answers. Her voice is soft, but there's something behind it. Fear, perhaps?

"_Something's wrong,"_ Korra thinks. "What are you doing here?"

There's a faraway look in her usual icy stare that puts Korra more on edge. Allegra is a dangerous opponent; she's strong enough on her own, but her alliance with Lila and Cole made her deadly. The confusion in her expression and the fact that she's alone doesn't ease Korra's worries. "What everyone else is doing," she says. "Just trying to survive." She reaches back to scratch her neck, but Korra misinterprets it as a move for her weapon — so she attacks.

Allegra dodges the throwing knife, but just barely. She sits idly on the ground and calmly wipes the blood drawn from her arm, as Korra prepares to fight for her life. "Who do you think you're fooling?" Korra snaps, her adrenaline pumping. "What kind of game are you playing? Did the three of you break up so that you could kill the rest of us off quicker? Then what? You're gonna get together and see who's the strongest by kill number?"

The corner of Allegra's lip twitches. "Kill number? You think this is a game? You think _I_ think this is a game?"

"Don't you, though? What other reason do you have to fight? You don't have any reason to go back home."

Allegra actually laughs, but it's full of ice and no humor. Korra feels a chill run up her spine. "Seriously? You're telling _me_ I have no reason to wanna go home? Look at yourself. I don't have friends because I don't need them. I don't have friends because they annoyed me. Did you even have that choice? Did anyone even _want_ to be your friend? What's your reason for wanting to go back home, Korra? Last I heard, you were just as alone as I was."

Her words, as true as they are, strike a nerve. "I have parents," she says. "I have people who want me to come home. What about you?"

It's almost disappointing how completely unaffected Allegra is by the jab. "I don't," Allegra says, "because they're dead." Korra doesn't say anything, just swallows and takes a step back. "I don't need people and excuses to give me a reason to keep competing. I'm fighting for my own life." She slowly stands up, dusts the dirt and debris off her pants, and readjusts the weapons on her back. "I'm not gonna kill you."

"Why?" Korra asks.

Allegra's gaze moves to Oralee, who's still crying and shaking her head in disbelief. Both Korra and Allegra doubt that the girl has heard anything from their conversation. "Time is ticking down anyway," she says. "If someone else doesn't, the Capitol probably will. I bet they're getting bored of a bunch of classmates sitting around like logs, trying to avoid each other. Not a lot of us are playing the game."

"Are you?"

She pauses. "Maybe. Are you?"

Korra clutches the knives she's been using as a life support, but then she looks at Oralee, who she's been watching and taking care of. She should have just left her in that building; that's probably what the Capitol and everyone else was expecting. But why didn't she? Eventually, she answers, "I don't know."

* * *

><p>Their once large alliance has now dwindled to just the two of them: Lewis and Lorea. Maybe this is the way it always should have been, he thinks, just brother and sister trying to protect each other in the Games. Though she holds his hand and leads the way, however, he can't help but feel as though something's off. Riley, Terra, Mattheo, Jorden — three of them are dead and one of them is as good as gone, considering her mental deterioration. While regret and remorse hangs heavy in his heart, he can tell that none of their losses has affected Lorea. True, she wasn't friends with any of them and she didn't seem particularly fond of them, but when someone dies isn't there some kind of natural reaction of sorrow?<p>

"Lorea," he says softly, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says. Her tone is hard to read, but that's nothing new. Even to Lewis, Lorea's detachment and self-isolation is difficult to read. He's never been able to understand why she's so averse to making friends and meeting new people. He can tell it upsets her when people mock and tease her, but she insists that she doesn't care and that everyone's just a hassle anyway. Maybe, he thinks, it's starting to eat at her.

"Are you sure?"

She stops to glare at him. "I'm fine," she repeats, with stronger conviction. "Why are you asking?"

Lewis shakes his head, though he knows he's already offended her. "Nothing. You just... You seem kind of on edge, you know?"

"How else am I supposed to be?" she snaps. Lewis winces because he knows he just opened a can of worms that could have easily been avoided. "Everyone thinks that this is just some kind of picnic, but that's not what this is. This is some stupid game made up by people who want us to kill each other! Why _aren't_ you on edge, Lewis?"

"I am, it's just… different."

"Different," she repeats, like the word is some kind of poison. "That's what you tell your friends when they ask about me, right? That's what you used to say to justify me to Riley and Terra before they died and went crazy, right?"

Lewis retracts his hand from Lorea's grasp when her blunted nails begin to dig into his skin. "Ow, Lorea!" She almost looks apologetic, but the expression disappears as soon as it appears. "Seriously, what's gotten into you? You've gotten really aggressive."

"Don't be stupid," she snaps. "Am I supposed to be nice in _the Hunger Games_? Am I suddenly supposed to like all of these people? Half of them probably didn't even know who I was until this entire thing started. I didn't talk to them, they didn't talk to me. Sorry if I'm not gung-ho for making friends with people that made fun of me behind my back."

"I'm not saying you need to be friends with them," he says. "Just… Don't you feel bad at all? Eleven of us are dead, you know? Even if all of us weren't friends, we were classmates. Doesn't that mean something?"

She doesn't look impressed by his argument. "Is it supposed to mean something?"

"Yes! We have some kind of bond!" he insists. "Something that keeps us altogether. Something that… that still makes us _us_, you know? If we can stick together and show that we still care about each other, maybe we can prove to the Capitol that they can't change us."

Lorea's jaw drops. "Where the hell is this coming from? 'The Capitol can't change us'? Newsflash, Lewis: they've already changed us! You just said, eleven of us are dead. We've already changed; they've already won. Pretending to be friends and sticking with these alliances is just stupid, because it's not going to prove anything. If anything, it's gonna show how weak we are and how much power they have over us. The alliances are falling apart, people are back stabbing each other, and friends are killing each other. This is whats happening, and there's nothing we can do about it. Stop deluding yourself."

He can't believe the words that are coming out of her mouth, but she looks just as taken back by him. "Do you seriously believe that?"

"Yes."

She notices him taking a step away from her. Despite her monologue on distrust and the foolishness of alliances, Lorea can't help but admit that the small action stings. Her own brother is looking at her like she's some kind of monster, and while she doesn't need the approval of others, it'd be nice to know that she at least had his backing. _"Not like this is any different than usual," _she thinks. He'd enmeshed her in the alliance without really asking her, made all these decisions on his own with others without talking to _her_. Lewis was always the popular one, the one people wanted to hang around and be friends with, but his popularity also subjected him to peer pressure. He needed to please others, needed to make sure they didn't hate him — even if it meant throwing her under the bus every now and then.

"I'm sorry," he'd say. "I didn't mean it. You know you're important to me."

"Okay," she'd reply, accepting the apology over and over again. He could keep throwing her under the bus and it wouldn't matter, because she'd _have_ to forgive him. Because she was his sister.

_"Different,"_ she thinks. _"Things are different."_

Though they feel trapped in their own world, they aren't oblivious to the fact that they're no longer alone. "Siblings' quarrel?" Hawk asks, a mixture of amusement and confusion on his face. When she directs her harsh glare to him, he holds his hands up in defense. "Easy there. It was just a joke." He lightly nudges Catcher with his elbow and mumbles, "Though obviously I'm not too far off, with that reaction."

"You guys," Lewis says, stepping up to try to play mediator. "Lorea and I—"

"You're alone?" Altair asks. He thinks about the members of their past alliance and flushes in embarrassment and slight shame. "Oh, right. Well, we're looking for Luke and the others, since we got separated yesterday. Have you seen them?"

Before Lewis can answer, Lorea scoffs loudly. "Looking for your friends? Asking us if we've seen them, like we passed them on a stroll around the park? All of you are ridiculous." The newcomers don't miss the way her eyes linger on Lewis the longest.

"That's awfully judgmental, coming from you," Hawk remarks, folding his arms across his chest. "Aren't you the mousy girl who sits in the back of the classroom and leers at everyone all day? Honestly, I'd expect you to think of friendship in general as something 'ridiculous.'"

A sense of loyalty stirs in Lewis's chest, the way it usually does when people start to mock his sister. "Hey, that's not fair—"

"Shut up, Lewis," she says, grabbing his arm painfully. He reels back under the intensity of her gaze and keeps his comebacks to himself. "I don't need you to fight my battles." She shifts her attention back to the trio, who look and feel incredibly uncomfortable. "You're right. I do think friendship is ridiculous. People are jerks. If they're not stabbing you in the back, then they're doing their best to make you feel like shit. They're always talking about how they'd rather have people take about them to their faces, but it's just as bad. It tears you down the same way, makes you feel useless and stupid. I don't need that."

Altair looks at his friends questioningly, wondering if there's any point at all in debating friendship with this girl. Lorea is smart, especially as far as normal fifteen-year-olds go, and it's obvious that she holds a strong stance in her beliefs. Lewis, though he can adapt and learn, is easily swayed by the beliefs of others. Altair has to wonder how the brother-sister dynamic is fairing under these conditions.

"I'm sorry your experiences have been that bad," Altair says eventually.

"_My_ experiences? That's just what I saw from others," Lorea mutters. "Not that it matters now."

"We should get out of here," Catcher whispers, tugging on Altair and Hawk's sleeves. "I'm getting bad vibes."

"From a fifteen-year-old?" Hawk asks incredulously.

"The quiet ones are the scary ones, man," he insists.

"C'mon, let's listen to Catcher," says Altair. "I don't think either of them really want us here anyway. Well, not Lorea at least..." With a little more muttering and manhandling, Hawk gives way to the others and turns around to retreat. "Besides, I'm really worried about Luke. We haven't heard from any of them since yesterday, and Joel's still with them." He exhales through his mouth, feels the nervousness creep back up on him. "It's getting a lot harder..."

"What is?" Hawk asks.

Before he can answer, a knife goes whizzing through the space between them and falls the ground with a loud 'clink.' Even if the weapon had been far off its mark, they spin around to face the threat — and Lorea is already on top of Hawk. He goes down despite being heavier and taller than the skinny female; despite her inability to effectively utilize throwing knives, she's quick and her body hits hard. "What the fuck!?" he growls. He grabs both of her wrists to keep the blade in her hand away from his face, but his head is still reeling from the impact with the cement and he swears he sees stars. "Are you God damn crazy?"

"That's what they call me, isn't it?" she hisses. Hawk is stronger, but she has the advantage, and the tip of the knife moves down. "I think crazy is being in this arena and thinking that avoiding each other and walking away and making friends and staying with alliances is going to save us. I'm just being logical."

Altair tries to make a grab for Lorea, but Lewis steps in and pushes him away. "Lewis," he says calmly, despite the situation, "I have nothing against you, but I will fight you if get in the way." Altair is lanky and gangly, but Lewis shrinks back from the harshness in his eyes. Altair is usually friendly and soft spoken and kind, so it throws Lewis off and forces him to take a step back.

"She's my sister," he says, as though trying to justify his actions. "I'll take care of her." Though part of him feels obligated to side with Lorea (because she's his sister, and really the only person he has in this arena anymore), another part of him reminds him of what's right and what's wrong. _"This can't be right,"_ he thinks as he sees her trying to plunge the knife into Hawk's face. "Lorea!" he shouts, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Lorea, stop it! You can't do this!"

"Back off, Lewis!" she spits, jerking her shoulders to get him off.

For once, Lewis persists. "No! You can't do this. I won't let you."

Something flashes in her eyes: anger, betrayal, bitterness, years of pent up frustration of being ignored and made fun of and put down. For just a second, all she sees is red, and then she sees her twin, wide-eyed and in shock. No, there's still red — everywhere, on her hands, the ground, her face. Lewis's red.

Lewis falls back, heaving and wheezing, pressing his hands to the gushing smile in his throat. He looks at Lorea, silently asking for some explanation or answer, but her attention isn't even on him. Lorea is on the ground after Hawk finally kicked her off, and her gaze is glued to the red spots on her skin. Blood was supposed to keep them together, wasn't it? Blood was what made their alliance strong. They're brother and sister — twins! They were supposed to stick it out, stand side by side, go home together. But she's staring at his blood on her hands like it's something foreign an exotic. She's looking at it like it isn't _his_ blood.

Then he looks at Altair, Hawk, and Catcher. He hopes that they can see his desperation, that they knew he was trying to help them by pulling off Lorea, that they'll try to help him in return. The blood is everywhere; he's choking on it, drinking it, spilling it despite using his hand as a tourniquet. He feels like he's drowning in his own blood.

But they don't move towards him. "He's a goner," Catcher whispers, but Lewis can read the words on his lips. "We can't do anything about it."

There's a sense of regret and pain in Altair's expression. After all this time, Lewis thinks, he still cares. "You're right," he says. And they leave, because there's nothing they can do about Lewis, whose skin is already cold, and Lorea is a lost cause.

When they're gone, she finally stands up, steps over the red in the cracks of the cements, and looks down at him. Part of him still expects to see remorse or sorrow; after all, they'd spent fifteen years together. But he sees nothing.

"This is your fault," she whispers, and his body goes slack.

* * *

><p>When Rain comes to, she's alone. Forgetting her circumstances, she tries to sit up, but the pain that shoots through her shoulder and down her arm is immediate. "Shit," she says as she struggles to remain upright. Her fingers slowly grasp the arrow, which is still lodged firmly into her skin, and swallows thickly. <em>"Just do it quick."<em> Mustering all the strength and will in her body, Rain pulls.

She can barely stifle her scream as she drops the arrow. While she holds one hand to her mouth, she struggles to find the bandages and wraps in her backpack with the other. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit..." The pain is excruciating, but she knows for a fact that she doesn't have any medicine that will alleviate it, so she bites down on her tongue. _"At least it's out,"_ she tries to tell herself. She manages to pull out some material to stunt the bleeding and, hopefully, allow the wound to heal. Her breathing is still heavy when she leans against the wall on her good shoulder and closes her eyes. _"It's out. It's done."_

She has to wonder how long she was out for. It feels like weeks, perhaps longer, since Allegra shot the arrow and Cole killed Nyle. _"It's probably just been a couple of days... But I'm surprised..."_ She's surprised that she's still alive. The arena is large, but even if it's only been several days, shouldn't someone have seen her or stumbled across her? She opens her eyes and looks around; immediately her gaze falls upon a dark stain on the other side of the room. "Is that blood...?" Perhaps it's hers. It's the most likely, but she can't shake the feeling that someone else was here — that someone died while in front of her she was asleep.

"It doesn't matter..." Whoever it belongs to, whether it's hers or someone else's, it doesn't matter.

Nyle is dead, she's alone, and she's sure that many more of her classmates have perished while she was sleeping. The Games are playing out exactly as the Capitol wanted, but now the question remains: does she want to become a player?

_"Haven't I already, though?"_ Even if she hasn't killed anyone, she'd done everything else to ensure her survival, to make sure that she comes out on top so that she can go home to her siblings. Luck has played a strong role in her getting this far, but she's still in it. She's still in the Games, even if she isn't active. She's still alive, which maker her a player.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Down in the Valley" - The Head and the Heart<p>

_Lord have mercy on my rough and rowdy ways..._

* * *

><p><strong>Tributes deceased:<strong>

District 3: Drizzle Ainsworth  
>District 6: Lewis Carnet<p>

* * *

><p>I really liked Trapped in Narnia's idea of doing a chapter of the Games and then doing a chapter focusing on one character, so the next chapter's gonna be another one of the character insight ones. I have an idea of who I'd like to write about next, but who would you most like to see?<p>

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


	21. intermission: lorea & lewis carnet

Author's Note:

I'm actually really terrible at updating when I promise to. I'm not doing it on purpose; maybe it's subconscious? Ahaha. Well thank you to everyone still sticking by me! You really are the best. :)

Lorea won in terms of votes. Though... barely? I don't know, haha, a lot of people recommended their own character (which is totally understandable). My goal is to get to everyone eventually. Hopefully. No promises because, as I've shown, I'm terrible at keeping them.

* * *

><p><strong>Semper Fi<br>**_"Always Faithful"  
><em>a _Hunger Games_ (© Suzanne Collins) fanfiction

Intermission  
>Lorea &amp; Lewis Carnet<p>

* * *

><p>Opening Song: "Keep the Streets Empty for Me" - Fever Ray<p>

* * *

><p>They're twins, but even from the moment of their birth you can tell them apart. Their features are almost identical — fair skin, gray eyes, blonde hair — but his are darker and hers much lighter. Lewis is more pronounced, exaggerated, and defined; Lorea is more likely to blend in, disappear, and fade away.<p>

As they grow older, the discrepancies between them increase. Lewis is social and charismatic, easily loved and immediately embraced. He fits in with the crowd, makes friends with little to no trouble, can strike up a conversation and keep it with no discomfort. His classmates adore him, his friends love him, and their mother holds him up on a pedestal. He's what every boy his age wants to be and what every young girl yearns for.

Lorea is quiet, preferring the calmness of her own mind than the worthless chatter of her peers. She hides away in the corner, her nose tucked in a book, while her brother thrives in the crowd. She rarely speaks, and when she does it's with a sarcastic remark. Lorea isn't the most popular girl in school, but few people can claim to hate her. If anything, she's just invisible. She's used to hearing people, even classmates she's been with since kindergarten, whisper, "Who's that girl?" Even her mother doesn't recognize her most days.

But it doesn't matter. She doesn't need the approval of her peers or classmates or even her mother, because none of them matter. Lorea doesn't need to justify her existence by being well-liked or voted most popular; she's strong enough to exist on her own.

Lewis is her friend, her best friend. (Her _only_ friend.) He listens to her and she listens to him, though admittedly he has a lot to talk about and she stops caring at some point. They have a sibling bond, but it's not the magical twin bond that novelists write about. If anything, it's a relationship based on convenience — they're friends because they have to be, because they're siblings and siblings are supposed to love and care for each other. They're friends because, without Lewis, Lorea would truly be alone. (_Not that it matters,_ she tells herself. _I don't need anyone. I don't need anyone. I don't need anyone._)

He loves his sister, and she cares for him more than anyone else, but Lewis can be mean. He's popular and he has a lot of friends; he's scared of being alone and losing them, so he tries to make them happy. And teenagers can be needlessly cruel.

Randy nudges Lewis and their group of friends, pointing a finger at Lorea, who's sitting at her desk with her head down. "Randy," Lewis says meekly, trying to get him to lay off, but Randy's voice is stronger than his. A whole group of them are crowded around her desk now, but she doesn't bother to look up at them. She already knows they're there. Lewis wants her to look up so that she can read the apology on his face.

Randy slams his hand down on the desk in an attempt to get a reaction. She jumps a little, but otherwise remains unfazed. He sneers. "What's up, Baby Carnet? Still too good to talk to us, huh? C'mon, don't you wanna hang out with your brother and his friends?"

"Randy," Lewis says again, but the addressed ignores him and no one else can hear him.

"Oh, that's right. Maybe you're embarrassed. Damn, that whole thing with Diego... Maybe you should've seen it coming, though." Lorea's ears turn red, giving away her shame immediately. Randy knows he's struck a nerve, and that brings a grin to his face. "Who the hell would wanna go out with you? You can't even look someone in the eyes without looking like you're gonna piss yourself. No one wants to date someone without a personality. 'Ey, Lewis, why don't you give your twin some lessons?"

Everyone turns to look at Lewis, who says nothing and merely shakes his head. Lorea, who steals a glance in his direction (hopeful and stupid, she'll think later), feels her lower lip tremble because of her brother's silence. (She repeats to herself _I don't need anyone I don't need anyone_.)

Randy teases her some more, until he gets bored. Everyone gets bored with Lorea eventually, even her own brother. Why else does he always walk away with his friends? Why else does he always end up leaving her behind?

He comes up to her after school, when she's packing her things and ready to run back to her dorm, and quickly grabs her before she can leave. "I'm sorry," he says, but it's like a whisper, a secret between just the two of them. Like no one else can know that he actually cares. "I shouldn't've told them about Diego. I didn't think Randy would bring it up."

Every time he messes up, he apologizes. And Lorea knows that he means it, that his words aren't entirely hollow even if they're meant to be a secret, that he really does love her. So Lorea forgives him each time, because he's her brother and her only friend, because she understands. She understands that teenagers are mean and need someone to torment, that she's the ideal target because she won't fight back, that her brother has to do what he can to be happy. She understands that sometimes she has to be collateral damage. She understands and she takes it every time, suppressing it and convincing herself that she doesn't care and that she doesn't need anyone.

Lorea does her best to ignore the pained voice in the back of her head, the one that reminds her of his constant betrayal. It surfaces every time his friends make jokes at her expense and he does nothing to stop them, every time he stands her up to hang out with them instead, every time he tries to apologize. It grows stronger with each incident, but Lorea stays quiet and makes sure that it does as well. Because feeling a sense of betrayal and pain means that she cares, and she doesn't.

Lorea is the social outcast, the loser, the family disappointment, the daughter her mother never wanted. The world chooses to ignore her when it doesn't want to slander or mock her, and she fades into the background without much complaint. She doesn't want to stand out in a crowd of unintelligent bullies, who've tormented her only for being alive.

And Lewis knows that this is wrong. He knows that no one should be this way or feel this way, that he should do what he can as her friend and twin to make her feel like she belongs. But Lorea is quiet and withdrawn and uncomfortable, everything that he's not, and sometimes he doesn't even know how to talk to her. Besides, he internalizes at some point, she will always forgive him and take him back. She has to.

* * *

><p>Closing Song: "Trash" - The Whip<p>

_I wanna be trash, and I have become the trigger for your gun_

* * *

><p>I was really excited when I got the twins as a submission, and I'm glad I got to expand on their personalities and dynamic here, even if it's short. I hope it gave some insight to them and their complex relationship (even if it doesn't necessarily make you like Lorea more, haha).<p>

I'll see you in the next installment, hopefully soon!

_may the odds be ever in your favor,  
><em>der kapitan


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